Scotch And Fire
by highlandgypsy
Summary: Captain Jim Gutterman didn't have much need for women beyond a good time in dark, no strings attached. When U.S. Army Sergeant Sarah Cameron showed up on Vella La Cava, he didn't see why that should change. She saw things differently.
1. Chapter 1

**Scotch and Fire**

Here we go again with the disclaimers. I don't own any rights to anything regarding the Black Sheep. I'll tell you right up front, dear readers, I know less than nothing about firearms so just humor me throughout this story. Any errors in fact are entirely mine and I embrace them whole-heartedly. Read, enjoy and review if the spirit moves you.

 **XXX**

If you read "Front Page News" you know Jim Gutterman and Sarah Cameron met briefly. If you read "Autumn 1945," you already know they ended up together. This is how they got there.

 **XXX**

Captain Jim Gutterman didn't have much need for women beyond a good time in dark, no strings attached. If a girl wanted to share his bed, who was he to argue, but he sure as hell didn't need anything complicated like a relationship. Staying alive as a member of the hottest fighter squadron in the South Pacific was his main priority. Anything else was just passing entertainment. When U.S. Army Sergeant Sarah Cameron showed up on Vella La Cava, he didn't see why that should change.

She saw things differently.

 **Chapter 1: A matter of R and R**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry Division HQ**

"You want to go _where_?" U.S. Army Major John Taylor's pen hovered above the three-day pass on his desk.

"Vella La Cava, sir." Sergeant Sarah Cameron tried to keep the impatience out of her voice. He'd heard her the first time but like every other man in this god-forsaken war he felt obligated to second guess everything she said.

"Are you sure?" Taylor looked at her like she'd been out in the sun too long. Clearly he hadn't gotten used to having her in his unit yet or he wouldn't be constantly surprised that she meant what she said, the first time she said it. "Wouldn't you rather go to Espritos Marcos? That's where most of the men – um, personnel – go for R and R."

"Yes, sir. No, sir. I mean it, I want to go to La Cava." Sarah pushed a strand of copper and gold hair behind one ear and fixed him with a green-gray stare. The no nonsense look usually worked on headstrong dogs and soldiers alike. She hadn't tested it on officers yet but suspected it would have the same effect. She'd found men were generally not inclined to argue with her when she looked at them that way.

It wasn't so much that she wanted to go to the front area island for its resort qualities. The place was kind of the armpit of the war and not any better than Rendova in that respect. But Sarah really wanted to see her sister, Kate Cameron, an Associated Press war correspondent embedded with VMF 214, the Black Sheep, on La Cava.

Sarah hadn't seen Kate for more than a month, since circumstances she'd never imagined found her on the receiving end of a field promotion that had plunged her right into the middle of the war in the Southwest Pacific. Her newly minted sergeant's stripes left her overseeing K9 teams seeking hold-outs on islands formerly held by the Japanese.

After her promotion, she'd spent a three-day whirlwind with Kate and the Black Sheep before joining the 137th Infantry on Rendova. That had been long enough to realize her sister and Major Greg Boyington, the CO at 214, were ass-over-applecart in love with each other, whether either one of them knew it or not. Leave it to her sister to find romance in a war zone, Sarah thought, but Kate had always been one for living on the edge. Sarah thought about doing things. Kate did them.

Sarah had also met Captain James W. Gutterman, a fighter pilot with an ego the size of his native Texas. She was having a hard time getting him out of her head. She'd danced with him, but she'd danced with a lot of the other boys, too. Then there'd been that poker game, which she won – a good thing, since she'd foolishly agreed to stakes she wasn't sure she was ready to pay.

She'd ended up walking on the beach with Jim anyway, the night before she left. Walking wasn't the only thing they'd done and _that_ was the reason she was having a hard time getting him out of her head. The kiss had been a surprise and not an unpleasant one.

It hadn't been anything like the time Tommy Hawkins kissed her after the homecoming dance or when Roy Dietrich kissed her the night before she left for the Army. Jim had kissed her like he meant it, with none of the awkward fumbling she'd come to expect from the process. He'd tangled his fingers in her hair while his mouth took hers, his other hand in the small of her back, pressing her close. It still made her a little light-headed when she thought about it. And she thought about it more than she probably should.

It might have gone further than kisses but since Kate had told Jim she'd take him apart if he did anything inappropriate with her kid sister, he'd been a gentleman. More or less. Sarah hadn't encouraged anything else because she wasn't really sure what qualified as inappropriate in Kate's book and she didn't want to give her sister a reason to lose her shit on Jim. Sarah might have the red hair but Kate had the temper. She tended to be a little protective, too, which Sarah found endearing and annoying in equal measure. Both of the Cameron girls were used to taking care of themselves after their parents died. At age 20, Sarah figured she was doing a fine job of it without a big sister looking over her shoulder all the time.

While she was definitely looking forward to seeing Kate, she wasn't sure how she felt about Jim. She figured she'd end up seeing him one way or another. She just wasn't sure how _much_ she'd see of him. Men tended to be more trouble than they were worth even if they kissed like that. Especially if they kissed like that.

Still looking skeptical, her CO signed the pass and handed it over.

"Have a good time, Cameron," he said. "Watch yourself around the Black Sheep."

Folding the pass into her pocket, Sarah headed for the airstrip to wait for the transport. Raider, her military working dog, trotted at her side. He was going with her because no one in the 137 wanted to deal with him in her absence. Actually, very few of the men wanted to deal with him when she was present, either.

After nearly being euthanized back in the States for some less than desirable character traits, the big Alsatian had found his calling in life as a scout dog. Standing 25 inches at the withers and weighing 65 pounds, Raider's off-the-chart prey drive was the key to his success as a scout. He loved to hunt and did so with unrivaled enthusiasm. His ability to alert on concealed humans was uncanny.

If the hunt was successful, he thought it was very rewarding to bite whatever he found. It was the dog's propensity for biting anyone as the mood struck him that had led his slightly terrified former owner to hand his leash over to Sarah at the Dogs For Defense base in Mississippi.

"He's too much for me," the man had said. "He's gonna get a bullet if I have to explain to the neighbor why her son Billy is stuck up in a tree again."

Sarah had privately thought if Billy had stayed in his own yard in the first place, that might have solved quite a few problems. Raider had come with a steep learning curve but after eight weeks of bruises and blood – hers, not the dog's - Sarah had channeled that hunting drive into something formidable.

Raider was the reason she'd come to the South Pacific in the first place. She'd been supposed to hand him off to another handler and then return to the States. Only it hadn't worked out that way and now here she was, like it or not. She would have happily taken the dog and gotten on the first available transport and flown straight back to Mississippi if the opportunity presented itself. When she joined the Army, she just wanted to train dogs. She had no intention of ever serving in a war zone. _This is not what I signed up for,_ she thought at least once a day.

At the edge of the air strip, she tossed her gear bag down and sat on an upturned ammo crate under a palm tree to wait for the plane to La Cava. Raider flopped on the ground beside her. Kate didn't know she was coming. It would be a surprise. This was Sarah's first leave since she'd arrived in the Solomons and she was looking forward not only to seeing Kate but to spending time around other women again. Not that she hadn't been a tomboy practically all of her life but being the only woman on this base nearly drove her crazy at times. The small field hospital nearby was staffed with a few female personnel but mostly it was just Sarah and the male population of the 137.

Once the men decided she wasn't going to melt into a puddle of tears and estrogen the first time she heard a four-letter word or saw them walking around in their skivvies, they'd quit treating her like a hothouse flower and started treating her like one of the boys. That was fine with her, she thought, although she wondered how in the world Kate managed to deal with the Black Sheep 24/7. The testosterone levels on Rendova were occasionally suffocating. Sarah supposed Kate's situation was a little different. She was, essentially, a civilian observer with the 214. And she was in a relationship with the unit's CO. That gave the whole thing a different dynamic.

Sarah's unit had been skeptical of her and the dog at first, but the first time Raider saved their butts by indicating hidden unfriendlies when they were on patrol, the men had stopped making jokes about putting lace curtains in the tents. After that, they started asking her to join them for drinks at the Gryphon's Nest, the watering hole for VMF 149, the Marine fighter wing that shared the island with the 137th Infantry. They also asked her to join them in after-hour poker games. After the first few games, they'd regretted it. Sarah was an exceptionally good poker player.

None of the guys in her own unit made passes at her, although she was aware of the covert glances. The 65 pounds of fang and muscle that was usually at her side ensured any inappropriate thoughts stayed that way – just thoughts. The men she served with were like brothers now and besides, it would be against regs to get involved with any of them. Sarah had decided within 15 minutes of landing on La Cava last month that regs were not highly regarded in this part of the war but she still wasn't interested in getting involved with anyone. Her life was complicated enough with patrols, monitoring other K9 teams and the paperwork that never stopped. A man was the last thing she needed in the middle of it.

While her own men treated her with the casual teasing of brothers, the Fighting Gryphons of 149 were something else. It must be a fighter pilot thing, Sarah decided after the first time one of them tried to coerce her into some "recreational activity." Pilots were nothing but trouble. She'd gotten very good at evasive maneuvers in the last month.

Sarah knew she was worth looking at although she didn't spend a lot of time in front of a mirror thinking about it. She was tall, with slender curves, green-gray eyes and wavy auburn hair. Both she and Kate shared the fair skin inherited from their Scottish ancestors. Sarah thought it wouldn't have mattered if she were as big around as she was tall and had a wart on her nose. If they'd had enough to drink, fighter pilots would still hit on her. Apparently it was in their genetics.

The hum of an incoming plane jolted her out of her daydreams.

 **XXX**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

"Sarah! Great to see you again! What brings you here?" Lieutenant TJ Wiley greeted her as she stepped off the transport. He caught the mail bag before it splashed into a mud puddle as a corpsman tossed it carelessly out of the plane.

"Hi, TJ!" Sarah was relieved to see he was the only Black Sheep waiting on the airstrip. TJ was just as much of a skirt chaser as any of them but he'd been awfully nice to her the last time she was on the base. The flight from Rendova hadn't been long nearly enough for her to sort through her feelings regarding Jim. She was glad she didn't have to face him ‑ and all the rest of them ‑ the minute she got off the plane. She was here to get _away_ from men, after all. "I'm on a three day leave and decided to come visit your little garden spot. Do you know where Kate is? She doesn't know I'm coming."

"Yeah, she's –" He was interrupted by the crack of small arms fire in the distance. "- Out on the firing range with Pappy and some of the guys. Come on, I'll give you a ride out there. Hey, Raider, how are ya, buddy?"

TJ shifted a little nervously as the dog sniffed his leg. Sarah laughed.

"He doesn't go around biting people randomly anymore."

TJ didn't look convinced.

 **XXX**

The shooting range was about a mile from the base. With the typical Black Sheep ability to create something out of nothing, the boys had arranged empty fuel drums and ammo crates at intervals on an open expanse of ground. A variety of trash gleaned from the base dump served as targets on top of them.

Jim and several other Black Sheep, along with Kate, had been killing time that afternoon with a little target practice. The boys found shooting things that weren't shooting back at them an agreeable pastime. Besides, Colonel Lard was always on them about staying up to proficiency standards and Greg said he could turn an afternoon of blowing things to kingdom come into a marksmanship qualification report.

Now, Jim lounged against the front of a jeep and watched as Kate took aim with Greg's Colt .45. A beer can disintegrated from atop an empty fuel drum 20 yards out, followed in quick succession by several more.

The girl wasn't a bad shot, Jim mused. She'd done just as well as any of the men with their rifles earlier. Actually, she'd done better than some of them. He wondered how in the world Boyle ever hit anything upstairs. He guessed Kate's ability wasn't too surprising since she said she'd grown up shooting a .22 varmint gun on the family farm in North Dakota. Still, she'd handled the .30 caliber M1 Garand with a confidence he found a little unsettling. Weren't women supposed to be the gentler sex? He supposed he should have known better than to let anything Kate Cameron did surprise him by now.

She was still learning to accommodate for the Colt's weight and recoil but she was clearly making up for lost time. Larry Casey had re-set the targets and Greg stepped up behind her to make a minor correction to her stance. The body language between the two of them resonated so loudly Jim could hear it from 40 feet away.

He took off his battered cowboy hat, riffled his dark hair and put the hat back on. He sighed. When Kate arrived on La Cava out of the blue four months ago, he figured he'd have her on her back within a couple of weeks. She was a knockout and she was living on the base 24/7. How hard could it be to get her between the sheets? He'd failed, although not for lack of trying. Turned out, the girl was a force to be reckoned with and totally uninterested him. She'd ended up in Greg's bed, which none of the men had seen coming.

From the first time Jim had seen her, he'd figured Kate would be a sweet night's entertainment. Hell, she was a walking fantasy. To his continued irritation, he hadn't been able to get much out of Greg on the subject. It seemed his CO had no intention of giving the detailed play by play that the guys were used to sharing after scoring with the nurses. Although, what little Greg had been willing to give up indicated _sweet_ didn't even come close.

Jim still enjoyed watching her. She was clearly Greg's girl and he knew without a doubt _that_ ship had sailed, but he couldn't help it. Like Bob Anderson said, a beautiful woman was like fine art. It wouldn't be right _not_ to appreciate her when she was right in front of you. It was like a civic duty.

Besides, women were a replaceable commodity. If he struck out with one, he could always find another who would be happy to accommodate him. He took his pleasure where he could and made a clean getaway before any nurse thought she could stake a claim on him. One night stands were just fine. A warm, willing body and a little mutual satisfaction with no strings attached, was the best approach.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy spending time with women when the lights were on. There was nothing like a little flirting to take a guy's mind off the war for awhile. He loved pursuing a new girl and playing her along until she said yes. When a girl came to his bed, he made sure she didn't leave it wanting. He wasn't _that_ big of a cad and he'd learned early that pleasure given equaled pleasure reciprocated . After all, he had a reputation to maintain. He just didn't plan on seeing one girl exclusively or doing any sentimental crap like holding hands on the beach . . . unless it was likely to lead to some other activity in a very secluded part of the beach after dark.

Hell, there was a war going on. He wasn't about to commit to anything besides looking out for his own skin. No one tried to make a go of any kind of serious relationship in the middle of a war anyway. Greg and Kate seemed to be making it work, he admitted, although he had decided the first day he met Greg Boyington that the man didn't have any use for what most people considered normal expectations, so maybe that was no surprise.

Then Kate's little sister, Sarah Cameron, had walked into the picture about a month ago. She was every bit as gorgeous as Kate but with a kind of innocence he hadn't encountered in a girl out here for a long time. He could still taste the sweetness of her kisses that night on the beach, the curves of her body against his. If he hadn't been so damned sure Kate would have come unglued on him, he would have seen just how far that innocence went. Between Kate and that big dog Sarah always had with her, he'd shown unaccustomed restraint during her brief stay. That was all water under the bridge. He didn't figure he'd see much of her again anyway since she was posted on another island. Funny, though, he'd hit a dry stretch with the ladies since then. None of his usual conquests seemed to hold his interest like they had before he met Sarah Cameron.

On the range, Kate squeezed off a series of shots that sent seven of the nine beer cans flying and put sizable holes in the fuel drums under the remaining two.

Jim turned at the sound of a jeep rumbling up the track from the south. He did a double-take as TJ pulled to a stop next to him. _Speak of the devil._ He broke into a smile as he recognized the passenger.

"Hey, Little Red! I knew you couldn't stay away from me!"

Her glance was cool but the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. He noticed the changes in her immediately. He'd spent three days watching her a month ago and had carried that picture in his mind's eye since she left. After a month in the tropical sun, streaks of copper and gold highlighted her auburn hair. A scattering of freckles dusted her high cheekbones, gold against her fair skin in the late afternoon sun.

Her face was as vibrant as it had been when he first met her but Jim thought she'd lost that _stateside_ look. The wide-eyed amazement that had marked her first visit to the island had been tempered by life on the front lines, as though the war had put a coat of something edgier over that soft veneer of innocence – covering it but not destroying it. It looked good on her, he thought. Anderson would say she looked like a Celtic warrior goddess or some other wild thing. Anderson always came up with the craziest shit to describe women.

Life on the front lines clearly agreed with the dog in the back of the jeep. He was bouncing from one side to another, about as happy as a dog could get. When Jim met Raider a month ago, he hadn't been entirely convinced of Sarah's claims that he was not into recreational biting, should the mood suit him. He sure as hell wouldn't want to tempt the beast now.

Greg's white bull terrier, Meatball, rounded the jeep with a bark of recognition. The shepherd wagged his tail. Sarah spoke quietly and he leaped out to greet the terrier in a scuffle of sniffing and posturing.

 **XXX**

Go figure. The second person she encountered was Jim.

It was an island after all, and the base wasn't that big. She'd been bound to run into him sooner or later. She had been hoping it would be later. Judging from the way he was looking at her, he remembered her just fine. She liked his smile even though she doubted it was from any honest affection. _Let the games begin,_ she thought.

"Don't take it personally but I didn't come to see you," she said.

"You're breaking my heart, darlin'." If anything, his smile grew broader.

"Sarah!" Kate exclaimed. She handed the pistol to Greg. "I've killed enough beer cans to put the fear of God into Gutterman." She winked at Jim, who shook his head. Kate embraced her sister. "This is a surprise. What are you doing here?"

"Came over to give you marksmanship lessons but looks like I'm too late. They let the press carry weapons now?"

"No, thank God." Greg holstered the Colt. "I can't imagine the body count. Good to see you again, Sarah. What brings you to La Cava?"

"Three days of R and R."

"Things must be pretty bad on Rendova if you're coming here to get away from it all," Kate said. She scratched Raider's ears. The big dog leaned against her hand in obvious delight.

"The company's better here," Sarah said.

"Admit it, you missed me." Jim shifted off the front fender of the jeep. "You couldn't stay away." His eyes traveled over her. She was wearing Army-issue fatigues, T-shirt and boots, practically mirroring her sister. Neither of the Cameron girls put a lot of stock in fashion.

Sarah and Kate both rolled their eyes. Sarah looked at the makeshift shooting range.

"You guys have all the comforts of home here."

Jim sauntered closer.

"Hey Red, are you as good of a shot as you are a poker player?"

Sarah's smile was genuine. She remembered beating him at cards on her previous visit, putting an end to his plans to get her alone on the beach that night. He probably thought she owed him one. Men's egos were such fragile things. Too bad.

"No," she said honestly. "I'm better."

"You sound pretty confident. Whataya say to a little contest, first one to miss buys the drinks?"

"I've watched you boys drink, I can't afford to lose." She eyed the range, calculating distance.

"We could bet something else." His grin was suggestive. Kate gave him a steely look.

"All right, you're on." Sarah pre-empted her sister before Kate could say anything. "Rifle or pistol?"

"Rifle."

"Isn't this range a little short?"

"We'll make it work. It's about 250 yards to the tree line."

She shrugged.

"All right. Standing, kneeling, sitting or prone?"

That clearly wasn't what he expected.

"Standing. We can talk about getting prone later."

"Pervert. Don't you ever stop?" But she was smiling.

 **XXX**

Casey and Anderson drove out with a jeep full of driftwood chunks to use as targets.

"We can't get much beyond 250 yards," Jim yelled as they left, "so start with big ones first. If we need more than one round, then we'll use the smaller stuff."

It was clear Jim thought this was going to be over in a hurry. Sarah swallowed a smile. Having something else to focus on made seeing him again a little easier. Dealing with his arrogance reminded her why she should probably keep him at arm's length. _Pilots_ , she thought. _Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em._

Over-confidence was a killer but Sarah was a good shot and she knew it. As her unit's K9 handler, she practiced with Raider and several of the base's sharpshooters endlessly during their downtime. Her dog's ability to respond to her commands under any conditions could be a matter of life and death. He was steady under a variety of weapon fire and she worked to keep it that way.

Jim handed her his rifle and a new clip as Casey and Anderson returned.

"Ladies first," he said.

She took the M1, the stock warm in her hands, the weapon's familiar weight shifting her mind into a narrow focus.

"Eight shots," she called, stepping to the line. On her quiet verbal command, Raider dropped into a crouch at her side. He liked this game. Sometimes, when the shooting was over, there were people who needed biting.

Sarah loaded the clip, chambering the first round. She clicked off the safety, nestled the butt of the gun against her shoulder and tipped her face to line up the sights. Concentrating, she found her balance and focused on the twist of driftwood sitting atop a 50-gallon drum almost at the edge of the surrounding jungle. Everything else faded away, the sun, the heat, the almost physical sensation of Jim's eyes on her back. Exhaling slowly, she squeezed the trigger. The wood flew skyward.

Without pausing, she adjusted for the next target, her motion smooth, breathing controlled, constantly aware of Raider crouched at her feet. Behind her, the small audience of Black Sheep was silent.

Seven shots later, none of the targets remained and the empty magazine ejected with a soft click. A round of applause brought the world back into focus. She released Raider. He looked disappointed that no potential bite-ees were forthcoming.

She handed Jim the rifle.

"You're pretty good," he said, reloading as he stepped to the line.

Sarah was sure he'd stopped just short of saying "for a girl." She leaned against the jeep next to Kate.

"Is he any good?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Kate replied. "He's got a hot hand upstairs. All I know about him on the ground is don't turn your back on him. Beyond that?" She shrugged.

Jim answered her question, sending eight chunks of driftwood flying with almost casual effort.

He handed Sarah the rifle and another clip. He winked at her. Her heart gave an unwarranted little flip.

Casey started the jeep. Anderson had collected an armload of odds and ends from the dump for the next targets. He held up a cooking oil canister and a powdered egg tin.

"Those will be fine," Sarah said. Jim arched an eyebrow.

"Not too small, darlin'?"

"Not my first rodeo, Tex."

"Funny. Your sister said that to me once."

Sarah stepped up, dropped Raider next to her and sighted on the first target. Letting out her breath, she eased the trigger back. The cooking oil canister arced gracefully upward before crashing to the ground. Another oil canister, two powdered egg tins, a rusted bucket, two small wooden ammo boxes and a coconut followed in short order.

"You're a regular Annie Oakley," Jim muttered, taking his rifle back.

"Did she tell you she can do that from horseback, too?" Kate asked brightly.

"You gotta be kiddin' me." He glared at her. She beamed at him.

Jim reloaded and took aim. Sarah studied him, letting her eyes wander over his backside. He was tall and nicely proportioned, she thought, lean without being skinny. The khaki fatigues hung loose on his rangy frame, shirt stretching taut across his shoulders as he raised the rifle. A smile played on her lips. Next to her, Kate coughed discreetly and arched her eyebrows. Sarah shrugged and grinned back. On the range, the rifle cracked with methodical precision. One after another, eight targets exploded.

Jim turned back, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Sure you don't want to just call it even, Red? We can both walk away and you won't get your feelings hurt when you lose the next round."

"Not a chance, Gutterman." Sarah slid off the hood of the jeep.

"Have it your way, then. One more time." He tossed a dented canteen cup in the air. "All right with you?"

"Perfect." Sarah eyed the cup. At 250 yards that was going to be a stretch.

"I'm getting a powerful thirst out here and it's gonna taste even better with you buying. Four shots each this time."

"Hope you just got paid." Sarah grinned. He was arrogant as all hell but cute in a boy-next-door kind of way. Except he didn't kiss like the boy next door. She knew because she'd kissed the boy next door at home and it hadn't been anything like that night on the beach with Jim. She shook that image out of her head. She wouldn't be able to hit the broad side of a barn if she started thinking about that.

Casey and Anderson drove out again to place the targets. Jim handed her the rifle. Raider sank into position by her leg as she loaded it. She could hear the men muttering behind her. She thought she heard Boyle say, "I've got 10 bucks on Sarah to win this. Anyone else want in?" A low-key buzz of men's voices followed but she didn't turn around to look.

Her world narrowed to her first target. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. She ignored it. The breeze sent a wisp of hair tickling against her ear. She put it out of her mind. The cup became the sole focus of her existence. On her next exhale, the rifle cracked and the cup flew. She squeezed off the next three shots without conscious thought, letting the hours of practice take over her mind and body. When the last target, a chipped porcelain coffee mug, disintegrated, she lowered the rifle and released Raider to heel off the line with her. The dog looked positively frustrated at the lack of anything to bite.

She handed the rifle to Jim, enjoying the half-annoyed, half-impressed look in his dark eyes as he brushed past her.

He raised the weapon, aimed and sent a cracked enamel canteen sailing off an ammo crate.

"So, are the two of you going to pick up where you left off?" Kate asked her quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sarah feigned innocence.

Jim's second shot blew a small wooden box to splinters.

"Don't give me that. He seemed plenty happy to see you again."

"Mmmmmm," Sarah made a noncommittal noise. "He put a gun in my hands in less than five minutes. What does that tell you?"

A bed pan flew into the air briefly before crashing back to earth. Sarah thought that was a bit larger than any of the targets the boys had set out for her.

"Apparently, that he trusts you." Kate shook her head. "But seriously, what do you see in him?"

"He's got a nice ass."

The words came out louder than she intended and hung on the warm air. Horrified, Sarah clamped her hand over her mouth. Too late.

Jim's last shot went wide, leaving the coffee mug perched solidly atop the fuel drum.

The men whooped. Sarah looked over to see money changing hands at a rapid rate.

Jim looked disgruntled as he stalked back to the jeep but he stuck out his hand to shake hers.

"My ego can't take much more of you, Red," he said. "Every time I see you, I get my _nice ass_ kicked. Is there anything you aren't good at?"

Sarah knew she was blushing as she grasped his hand. Damnit, she had not meant for him to hear that. His grip was strong and his eyes held hers with a little more intimacy than she thought was entirely necessary.

Suddenly self-conscious, she let go of his hand and turned to Raider. She pulled a slightly ragged piece of rolled and stitched canvas out of her gear bag in the jeep. Gripping each end of the tug, she held it parallel with the ground, away from her body. With a word, she released the dog, who came up off his crouch like he was spring loaded. The shepherd hit the canvas with enough force to knock her back a step when his jaws connected. Sarah locked her elbows and lifted the dog off his feet, using centrifugal force to spin him airborne in a circle before letting him drop.

"Out," she said. He immediately let go and backed off, dancing on his hindquarters in anticipation. She adjusted her grip on the toy and released him to it again. The shepherd clamped onto the canvas with an audible chomp. Several of the Black Sheep stepped back.

"You win," she told the dog, releasing it. He capered happily with his prize, then shoved it back at her and relinquished it. The toy was more fun when it put up a fight. Sarah grabbed the ends, presented the tug and when he gripped it, whirled him around in another circle before ending the game.

"He just needed something to bite," she said, seeing the men's dubious looks. "It's his reward for good behavior."

They didn't look convinced.

Jim saw TJ tucking a roll of bills into his pocket.

"What the hell? You bet against me? You're supposed to be my wingman, what happened to having my back?" he snarled.

TJ shrugged.

"It was a fair bet – she's Kate's sister and Kate's taken down Lieutenant McNeal, Sergeant Overton and Colonel Lard," TJ ticked off on his hands, recalling some of Kate's more spectacular adventures with the Black Sheep. "Plus, she's already beaten you in poker. I figured she had a good chance."

Jim snorted.

"C'mon, ladies." Greg threw an arm around each girl's shoulders. "Since Jim's buying, let's go have a drink and Sarah can tell me about the Fighting Gryphons. Their combat record is almost as good as ours."

"I don't think I can tell you much," Sarah said. "I spend most of my time trying to get away from them."

"Good," Kate said drily. "Then you'll be in practice for the Black Sheep. If you think you're going to get any rest and relaxation here, you came to the wrong place."

[Type here]


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Doesn't anyone here sleep alone?**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

"What can I get you ladies?" Bobby Anderson was on bartending detail as Kate and Sarah walked into the Sheep Pen.

"Better make hers lemonade," Kate said. "I don't want to listen to her drunken singing tonight."

"I can't help it if I'm a lightweight." Sarah glanced around the building's comfortably shabby interior. She thought there were a few more pin-ups adorning the walls than there'd been the last time she was here. "I don't have your freakish metabolism when it comes to alcohol."

While her sister could – and did – out-drink a number of the Black Sheep on a regular basis, Sarah had not inherited those genes. She'd ignored that fact the first time she visited Kate and had ended up with a thumping hangover. She was determined not to do that again.

"A beer will be fine, thanks, Bobby." Sarah thought beer was a good deal safer than the Scotch that flowed like water in this unit. Lemonade would have been safer yet but she doubted the Sheep Pen had ever seen anything that tame. If it had, someone would have spiked it within minutes.

"Here ya go, Red," Jim pressed a tumbler of whisky into her hand. "Here's to R and R with the Black Sheep."

Sarah accepted the glass but handed it off to Kate, who raised it in mock salute.

"Thanks, Jim! Slainte!"

Jim scowled at her and grabbed a couple of bottles of beer from Anderson. He handed one to Sarah. She took a long swallow, then pointed the bottle at him. If she was going to spend the next three days here, she needed to establish some ground rules.

"Thank you for the drink but let me make one thing perfectly clear, Captain, you are not getting me drunk tonight," she said firmly. Due to the crush at the bar, she was standing close enough she needed to tip her head back to meet his eyes. He was a lot taller than her five feet, seven inches. "Or tomorrow night. Or ever." She put a hand on his chest and shoved him out of her way. He followed her to a table.

"You sound pretty sure of yourself, Sergeant."

"I am." She sat. "Haven't you learned not to argue with Cameron women yet? I figured Kate had you straightened out by now."

"Your sister has her hands full with Greg. I'm the least of her concerns."

Jim spun a chair around and straddled it. He folded his arms across the back and fixed her with a gaze that made Sarah shift a little uncomfortably. His dark brown eyes were like a physical touch and that good old boy smile was back. His intentions were nothing but trouble and she knew it.

"You beat me at cards, you out-shoot me on the range, you won't drink my whisky, what am I going to do with you?"

It didn't appear to be a rhetorical question and Sarah knew better than to ask him what he _wanted_ to do with her. Life with the Gryphons had taught her that pilots took girls extremely literally. You never said yes to anything unless you meant it. She opened her mouth to say something when he reached out and took her hand.

"Dance with me?"

That seemed safe enough. She didn't argue as he pulled her out of her chair and onto the small dance floor. Raider laid down under the table and put his nose on his paws. It didn't look like anyone here needed biting. Life could be so boring. How did humans stand it?

 **XXX**

"I'm cutting in," TJ said. It wasn't the first time one of the other boys had cut in on them. As Kate's sister, the Black Sheep considered Sarah one of their own in spite of her Army uniform. They had been more than happy to welcome her back to the fold. The fact that she was cute and unattached didn't hurt either. Jim wasn't the only Black Sheep who had a reputation with the ladies and it didn't take S-2 clearance to see a number of the boys had showered, shaved and put on clean uniforms before showing up at the Sheep Pen that evening.

Jim glared at TJ but stepped out of the way as Sarah took the other pilot's hand and let him spin her back into the music. With a sigh of frustration, he turned to Kate, who was wrapped comfortably in Greg's arms nearby, and asked, "Mind if I cut in?"

"Yes," Greg said amiably, "but it's up to her."

Kate narrowed her eyes at Jim.

"All right. I've got some things to say to you."

"She's all yours." Greg stepped out of the way.

Jim took Kate's hand and rested his other hand on her waist, carefully polite. Groping another guy's girl, whether real or perceived, was a good way to get bent teeth. Besides, he knew Kate wouldn't hesitate to slap him down if she thought he was deliberately out of line.

He sighed inwardly. It was one thing to dance with a girl he hoped to coax into his bed. It was another thing entirely to dance with a girl who was a regular occupant of his CO's bed. Although come to think of it, he didn't think they actually spent much time in Greg's bed. Tents on the base were not great for privacy.

He tried to put the topic out of his mind. Once you got beyond their obvious use, women were complicated creatures. They came with all kinds of rules that guys were supposed to understand. Half the time, the rules kept changing. Yet another reason not to get involved with a girl long-term. That would be a lot of work.

"Remember what we talked about when Sarah first came here?" Kate pinned him with smoke gray eyes.

"If I recall, you threatened me with bodily harm if I got out of line with her."

"Close enough. Do I need to remind you about that?" There was an edge to her voice, that protective, big sister tone.

"I think we agreed I wouldn't do anything she didn't want me to." Swaying to the music, Jim couldn't help comparing the two girls even though he knew he should be keeping his mind on the conversation. Sarah was taller than Kate but they shared the same lithe, curvy build that invited a man's eyes and his hands. He'd noticed on the firing range that they also shared the ability to speak volumes with just a look. Could all women do that? He'd never really paid attention before. He got a feeling he should probably start.

"She's 20 years old and this is her first time out of the States." Kate jolted him back to the present. "She doesn't know what she wants."

"You might be surprised." He remembered that night on the beach a month ago. He thought any girl who kissed like she did probably knew exactly what she wanted.

Kate clenched her jaw.

"Jim, please, she's my little sister. Just . . . be nice." _Or else_. He could read the unspoken threat in her eyes.

"All right, Katie, I promise," he said. _Dear God, what was he saying?_ Kate knew as well as he did how things worked out here. The pilots weren't choir boys. They, and all the other personnel, took their pleasure where they could. Life in a war zone meant living each day like it was your last because it just might be. Japanese pilots used him for target practice damn near every day, he'd ditched over the water more than once and had nearly gone up in flames after a spectacular crash landing. He didn't put a lot of stock in promises of tomorrow. If an opportunity presented itself today, he was going to take it.

Greg stepped in, putting an end to the conversation before he promised anything else stupid.

"I'm cutting in," Greg said, taking Kate back into his arms. "I've seen that look in her eye before. Consider it a favor before you get hurt."

 **XXX**

Sarah was chatting with TJ and Don French at the bar.

"Are you still buying? I'll have another Scotch," TJ said cheerfully as Jim approached.

"Pay for your own," Jim said. "That deal was for ladies only. Sarah?" He leaned on an elbow and indicated the array of bottles. "What's your pleasure?"

After several beers, Sarah knew she was close to her limit. Staying one step ahead of the Black Sheep meant staying sober and her head was already starting to buzz. Raider stalked out from under the table and leaned against her. His ears were pinned back. She recognized the look.

"Nothing for me, thanks. I should take my dog out. He really doesn't like crowds like this." Suddenly she needed to escape the heat and thumping music of the Sheep Pen.

"I'll go with you." Jim pushed off the bar and followed her out.

 **XXX**

The sun was melting into the Pacific, painting the water a dull metallic gold ahead of storm clouds sweeping up from the south. He hadn't intended to go to the beach with her but that's where they'd ended up, following Raider as he wandered along, sniffing and anointing things at random.

The big dog found a stick and Sarah threw it. After a couple of times, Jim calculated he had about 30 seconds before the damned dog got back with the damned stick. He made the most of it.

She wasn't expecting it. Her surprise was evident as she stiffened in his arms, then relaxed, returning the kiss with the innocent heat that had made his dreams a sweet torture for the last month.

"Stop it!" she said breathlessly, pulling away. Her expression was a mix of irritation and something else he couldn't quite read.

"Stop what?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer and took her mouth again, not hurrying. She didn't resist. Her lips parted to let the kiss deepen, her hands resting lightly at his waist. She smelled like soap and sun-dried flowers. It was arousing on a level he hadn't expected.

"That!" She sounded exasperated, finally pushing back.

"You said I couldn't get you drunk. You didn't say I couldn't kiss you. Didn't you like it?" He could tell from her response she liked it. A lot. For being such a good poker player, she was terrible at hiding her feelings away from the table.

"I . . . but . . .," she stammered, looking down at her hands, seeming surprised to find them around his waist. She was clearly at a loss for words, unlike her sister who had a comeback for everything. He liked that.

Raider screeched to a halt in front of them and presented his stick. Since Jim's hands were still on her arms and he showed no sign of letting go, Sarah pulled free and took the stick. Raider raced down the beach again, spraying sand behind him, as she drew her arm back and sent the driftwood arcing end over end.

"But what?" He pulled her toward him again. "You don't have a guy on Rendova, do you? Or back in the states?"

"No. But I hardly know you. Seriously. Stop it." She was laughing as she slapped him on the chest but the tone of her voice didn't invite argument. Her eyes were green flames in the dying light.

"I can think of ways we could get to know each other better."

"So can I," she said. "We can talk."

"Talk?" He hadn't been expecting that. "About what?" In his experience, girls rarely wanted to talk when they were alone with him. But if that's what it took, he'd humor her. A girl like her was worth a little extra effort, even though her looks were going to make it hard to keep his mind on conversation.

Raider returned with the stick and presented it hopefully.

"No more," Sarah told him. The dog laid down on the sand and began shredding the stick with the efficiency of a wood chipper. She sank down next to him, drawing her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms around them. Jim sat next to her, studying her profile. A low ray of sun broke through the gathering clouds, gilding her cheekbones and burnishing her hair with copper highlights.

"Kate told me about your accident," she said, turning her face toward him.

"Which one?" He laughed wryly. If this was her choice of topic they weren't off to a very good start.

"The one where she and Greg hauled you out of your plane before it blew up. Was there another one?" Confusion edged her voice.

"Yeah. Surprised TJ didn't tell you about it. I wholesaled two planes in less than two weeks, which even beats his record. He won't let me forget it."

Neither event had been his proudest moment and he didn't know why he was telling her this. Both accidents amounted to failure in his book and that sure as hell wasn't any way to impress a girl.

"What happened?"

He told her about the final mission of their campaign over New Ireland, about the bombing run on the unidentified Japanese target, mixing it up with a swarm of Zeroes afterward and his fuel tank hitting vapor when there was nothing but ocean for miles around.

"So you just jumped out?" She sounded horrified at the thought.

"It beat the alternative, darlin'. Takeoffs are optional, landings are mandatory and I didn't want to be there for that one."

She paled a little at the thought. Next to her, Raider rolled onto his back and stuck his paws in the air. She rubbed his belly, her fingers moving through the dog's fur with a familiarity that left Jim wondering what her hands would feel like against his bare skin.

"What are you doing in the middle of this war? Wouldn't you rather be back in the states?" he asked, needing to get his mind off her hands.

"Yes." Her response was so emphatic, he laughed.

"For someone who doesn't want to be in a war, you've got a front row seat."

"It wasn't intentional, I can tell you that," she said, staring out at the ocean. Lightning flickered off shore.

Jim leaned back on his elbows. Being around her was a refreshing change from the nurses he usually made time with. Talking was never a high priority with them and honestly, some of them were more attractive if they kept quiet. They tended to say one thing and mean something else and a guy could get in trouble in a hurry if he wasn't careful. He had a feeling he'd always know where he stood with Sarah Cameron.

"What's so funny?" She looked at him sideways from under her lashes. An odd jolt of recognition tumbled through his gut. He'd seen Kate look at Greg that same way about a thousand times. It was a look that could indicate anything from open invitation to pending fury. Now that he'd experienced it firsthand, he wondered how in the world Greg managed to keep his mind on anything else when Kate was around. Just being in Sarah's presence invited a guy's mind to wander off in all sorts of directions. Most of them would probably get him in trouble. He struggled to get a grip on the conversation.

"Ever wish you would have stayed at the bomber factory?" Kate had explained to him several months ago that her sister worked at Douglas Aircraft in Long Beach before she decided to join the military.

"No." Sarah was just as emphatic with that answer. "It was the same thing every day. It was okay at first but I couldn't stand it after a while. That's why I joined the Army and got into Dogs For Defense. It was perfect, until I ended up here. What about you?" She leaned back onto the sand next to him. He caught that sun-dried flower scent again.

"My old man was a rigger in the oil fields in Texas and Oklahoma. We moved around a lot, never lived in one place long enough to feel like I ever belonged. Pa was a mean drunk. Ma finally took us kids and left him. We lived with her family in Abilene, then some other little places you never heard of. Got kicked out of high school. Principal said I was first class troublemaker."

One corner of Sarah's mouth quirked up.

"You? I'd never have guessed it."

Those green eyes sparkled, inviting him to go on.

"No one cared what I did until I borrowed a car and wrecked it. The car belonged to someone who was a whole lot more important than me. I was 18 and they gave me a choice – the West Texas Correctional Institute or the Marine Corps."

The sun vanished behind a bank of clouds and the beach's golden glow tarnished with shadows.

"Flew with a couple of different squadrons. Managed to get in trouble there, too." He scrubbed a hand over his lower jaw. "Pappy found me when I was one kill short of ace and up on court martial."

"For what?"

"Hitting someone I shouldn't have."

She held his gaze. Not necessarily sympathetic but interested. He could get lost in those eyes, he thought. They looked like the ocean before a storm, deep and strong enough to pull him under.

Thunder rumbled, closer now.

"Here it comes." Jim stood as the first drops hit. He held out his hand. "C'mon. We're gonna get soaked before we get back."

 **XXX**

Sarah ducked into Kate's tent on a gust of rain and pulled the mosquito netting closed behind her. She caught a faint whiff of aftershave. Greg must have just left.

Kate looked up from where she was sprawled on her bunk. She stuck a marker in her book and closed it.

"Missed you in the Sheep Pen," She observed. "Everyone noticed you and Jim didn't come back."

"Uh-huh." Sarah's voice was carefully noncommittal as she sat down to pull off her boots. _I bet they did._ Outside, rain dripped off the canvas, a soft counterpoint to the thoughts pounding through her head. Due to the increasing downpour, their goodnight had been brief, but the taste of his mouth lingered. So did the heat of his touch as he'd cupped her hip, pulling her against him. She hadn't stopped him this time. She hadn't wanted to.

"Is he as good in the dark as he is on the firing range?" Kate said drily. She rolled onto her stomach and studied her sister.

"Kate!" Sarah tried to look offended. "I don't know what you're talking about." She knew pretending was useless but she did it anyway. She was used to Kate's uncanny ability to read people's minds, especially - unfortunately - hers.

Raider shook, spraying fine droplets of water everywhere. He spun counter clockwise and curled up next to Sarah's bunk. Sarah switched off the light and stripped out of her rain-dampened clothes, dropping them on the floor before pulling on a dry T-shirt. She gathered her shirt, trousers and bra and hung them over the clothesline in the back of the tent.

"You exactly what I'm talking about. You've got that glow in your cheeks like you've been kissing someone who's very good at it."

Sarah shook her head. Not only had she failed in her plan to keep Jim at arm's length, she was apparently wearing her heart on her sleeve as well. She went on the defensive.

"I could say the same thing about you. Don't let me interrupt any plans you might have had for tonight. I can go sleep in the Sheep Pen or under a jeep if you and Greg . . ." She let her voice trail off with a suggestive grin.

Kate ignored her. Sarah supposed life with the Black Sheep had made her immune to teasing by now.

"Jim's a skirt chaser and a hot head and he thinks he can solve all his problems with his fists," Kate said abruptly. "And he drinks too much. But I guess that describes most of the guys on this base. Not exactly the guy I'd pick for my little sister."

"Then it's good you're not in charge of picking."

Sarah climbed into her bunk, pulling the blanket up against the dampness of the night.

"Sair . . .," Kate used her sister's childhood nickname. "It's none of my business. Just be careful. He's got a reputation and girls don't tell him no."

"You did."

In the darkness, Sarah heard her sister laugh softly. Kate had told her about Jim's ill-fated pass shortly after she'd arrived at the 214, an event that, when seen in hindsight, had launched her straight into Greg's arms. Sarah kind of thought she would have ended up there anyway. She'd never met two people who were so made for each other.

"He's only after one thing," Kate said quietly, "and once he gets it, he'll either keep expecting it or he'll go somewhere else to get it. I've lived with them for four months - I know how they operate. I don't want you to be another notch on his bedpost."

"Good night, Katie," Sarah said with finality.

"Good night, Sair."

Raider grumbled in his sleep.

"Good night, Raid." Sarah let her arm drape over the edge of her bunk to rest on the shepherd's flank. At least there was one guy in her life she could trust to be honest about his intentions.

 **XXX**

Jim stepped out of his tent the next morning just as the two girls came around the corner, headed to the mess. Their heads were turned toward one another, intent in conversation. He wondered what they were talking about and decided it was probably better that he didn't know.

Kate was braiding her hair as she walked, fingers working efficiently behind her head. Sarah was listening with a skeptical look on her face. The big shepherd dog was pacing at her side. Kate's smile sparkled with humor. Sarah's eyes widened momentarily in shock. Jim could hear her as they drew closer.

"Are you serious? And the nurses go along with that?"

"There's no accounting for taste."

No. He definitely didn't want to know what they were talking about.

He couldn't help himself.

"Hey! Cameron!" he called.

Both heads turned, Sarah's molten copper and gold waves catching the sun. He was rewarded to see her break into a smile when she saw him. Kate's expression was guarded but he kind of expected that.

"The two of you are a lovely sight in the morning." He stepped between them and wrapped an arm around each of their waists. "Only way it could be better would be if we all woke up together."

"In your dreams, Gutterman. I keep telling you that but you just don't listen," Kate said without heat. Turning to Sarah, she added, "See? Remember what I told you last night?"

"All lies, I'm sure," Jim said. He was uncomfortably aware of the way Sarah was studying him. God only knew what Kate had told her. No, he figured he knew exactly what Kate had told her. Even worse, for the first time in his life, he realized he actually cared what someone said about him.

 **XXX**

After breakfast and the morning's mission briefing, the two girls accompanied the pilots to the flight line. Meatball raced out of Greg's tent and joined them, scrambling to match Raider's longer stride.

Spirits were high as the base hummed with excitement. Sarah followed as Kate through the pre-mission chaos as she shot a few photos of the pilots and mechancis. She loved the feeling of power as the Corsair engines throbbed to life. No wonder pilots were so arrogant, she thought. They were used to having all that power at their fingertips and it carried over once they were out of the cockpit. They thought they could have whatever they wanted simply by merit of taking it.

When the planes started to taxi toward the airstrip, the girls retreated to the mechanics' shed. Line chief Andy Micklin was chomping on a cigar and inspecting a crate of allegedly new parts with a frown on his face. Hutch was a safe distance away, looking wary.

"Hey, Sarge! You remember my sister, don't you?" Kate said. Micklin had just arrived himself the first time Sarah visited the base.

"Not likely to forget a dame who looks like that," Micklin said, looking Sarah up and down, but his tone was respectful. The old-school Marine didn't think women belonged in the military, let alone in a front area, but Kate had proven the exception. He rather enjoyed the sparkle she brought to this khaki world. Now it looked like there were two of them. "I thought the Lord broke the mold after he made you, Katie, but clearly He was a' fixin' to repeat a good thing." His eyes were alight with humor as he stuck out his hand. Any girl with red hair was all right in his book.

Sarah shook it and refrained from wiping her hand on her pants when he released it. Micklin noticed that and nodded his head in approval.

"What's that big dog do?" he asked, gesturing at Raider.

"Around here? He watches my back," Sarah answered.

"That'd be a full time job with them college boys." Micklin transferred his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. "Any of 'em give you any trouble, you come see me. Especially you watch out for that Jim Gutterman. He's gonna get himself in big-time trouble one of these days. And TJ Wiley, too. That boy's an accident no matter where he is. And Bobby Boyle ain't any better – "

Kate pulled Sarah away while Micklin was still expounding on the Black Sheep's multitude of faults.

"She'll be sure to do that," Kate called over her shoulder.

They headed back for a second cup of coffee and to await the squadron's return.

 **XXX**

"I'm not subjecting you to their showers," Kate told Sarah later that afternoon. "If they thought we were both showering there, it would be standing room only."

Sarah hadn't been inclined to argue. Now, she combed through her wet hair in Lieutenant Dee Ryan's private room in the nurse's quarters near the hospital. Sarah thought it was a small war that landed Kate and Dee, friends since childhood, on the same island. It was also wonderfully convenient. It had been a luxury to shower and change clothes without being in a frantic hurry to avoid being interrupted, either accidentally or on purpose.

On Rendova, she'd taken to tying a red bandana on the door of whichever outdoor shower stall she was using. It didn't keep the men from teasing her about helping to wash her back but at least it set a boundary. In theory. She set down the comb and sipped her beer. Alcohol was strictly prohibited in the nurse's quarters so of course they were all drinking. Raider was sprawled on the floor in sleepy canine contentment. Animals were prohibited, too, but as a member of the U.S. Army, Sarah figured he was exempt.

Dee shook her head as Kate slipped out of the borrowed bathrobe and reached for a clean T-shirt.

"Honestly, Kate, your underclothes aren't in any better shape than your shirts and pants. Do you even own any decent foundation garments?"

Kate made an exasperated noise as she pulled the shirt over her head. Her clothes were notoriously in a state of disrepair.

"I don't need to wear fancy lingerie to take pictures of pilots," she said as her head popped through the opening.

"Maybe not, but don't you ever want anything nice for when . . . you know . . . you and Greg . . .?" Dee's grin was suggestive. She had been Kate's self-appointed fashion consultant since Greg had gifted Kate a cocktail dress before a base party several months ago.

"I don't think it matters." Sarah sipped her beer. "I've seen the way Greg looks at her when her clothes are on. It can't change that much when they come off." She had the satisfaction of seeing color rise in her sister's cheeks.

"Plain old every day foundations come off just as easy as the fancy stuff," Kate said. "And it's not such a big deal if they get left on the beach by accident. Or so I'm told." She grinned and tried to look innocent. She failed.

"Still, boys like a little window dressing," Dee mused. She and Larry Casey had one of the long-term relationships that defied the other pilots' fly-by-night romances. "Even though it doesn't stay on long."

"Hmmm," Kate said. "And what's Casey's favorite color, Dee?"

"It's pink." Lieutenant Laura Halvorson walked in and dropped into a chair. "I need a beer, Ryan."

Dee handed the willowy blond nurse a bottle.

"How'd you know it's pink?" Dee asked.

"I've seen your wash line. Everything is pink. Pink, pink, pink. Why are we talking about lingerie?" Laura kicked off her shoes and rubbed her feet.

"Do the boys really like it? Or is it just one more thing that gets in their way?" Dee pondered.

"Don't look at me," Sarah said a little awkwardly. "I keep my clothes on."

Laura and Dee laughed in unison.

"That'll change if you spend much more time around here," Laura predicted.

Kate cleared her throat and fixed her sister with a calculating gaze.

"I saw the way Jim was looking at you last night. If you don't watch out, you're not going to have any room to talk."

Sarah shook her head.

"I expect he looks at all the girls that way."

"Not any more," Dee gestured with her bottle. "Jeannie McDowell was all over him like a cheap suit in the Sheep Pen last Saturday night and he totally ignored her. They used to be a hot item. In fact, Jeannie got so mad at him, she left with TJ."

"Left with his wingman?" Kate laughed. "Can't imagine that went over well. How big was _that_ fight?"

"There wasn't any fight, can you believe it? Jim didn't act like he cared, just kept playing cards. Weren't you and Greg there? I thought I saw you."

Kate made a noncommittal noise. "We must have . . . mmm . . . left. A zebra doesn't change its stripes overnight," she said, changing the subject. "Jim's not exactly known for sleeping alone."

"Doesn't anyone here sleep alone?" Sarah asked. "Besides me?" she added hastily. She rather thought who she did or didn't sleep with was nobody's business but her own, even though the other girls clearly thought it was an acceptable topic for group discussion.

Kate, Dee and Laura looked at each other. None of them said anything but they were all grinning.

"Forget I asked," Sarah said.

"C'mon, Sair." Kate stood and collected her things. "We'll be late for mess if we don't get going. Then I need you to help me in the darkroom. I've got three days of film to process for a courier packet that's due tomorrow and I'll have the squadron's recon film to do when they get back in the morning so I want to get those negatives done tonight."

Dee looked at Sarah. "You're mental, you know that? Who in their right mind would come here for R and R? All you get is chased by the Black Sheep and turned into a slave by your sister. Go to Espritos next time. Eat real food. Sleep in a real bed." She paused and grinned wickedly at Kate. "Right? I hear the beds there are exceptional."

Kate told Dee explicitly what she could do with herself.

[Type here]


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Love me, love my dog**

Editor's note: dogs were used in a variety of ways during WWII. What I've created here does not claim to reflect any kind of historical accuracy. I drew on my own experiences in training scent work with dogs and those of friends who train and compete in canine protection sports. As usual, I've invented activities and circumstances that fit my own selfish needs. I happily take full responsibility for any errors.

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

"Trying to get any work done in here tonight is just asking for trouble." Kate sighed with resignation. Music and laughter resonated from the other side of the darkroom door. "We can finish this tomorrow. It's just a matter of time before some half-drunk couple stumbles in here looking for privacy."

Her plans to get any photography work done had derailed when a jeep full of nurses with the night off showed up at the Sheep Pen. The party was in full swing as the sisters exited the darkroom to join the festivities.

Sarah laughed at the sign on the door as Kate pushed it shut behind her. The original "Please knock" had been amended. An additional plank nailed below it read, "if you want to keep your ass in one piece."

"Your handiwork?" Sarah asked, gesturing.

"No. Anderson painted that for me after a couple of near misses almost ruined some of my film. Not that anyone around here pays any attention to signs, especially during a party. Privacy is kind of hard to come by and some of these guys will take any port in a storm when it comes to getting lucky."

"Seriously? In your darkroom?" Sarah was slightly appalled. That didn't sound very romantic but what did she know. They pushed their way to the bar.

As with most of the Black Sheep's social events, alcohol flowed abundantly. In spite of his previous declaration that he was not going to play poker with her again, Jim talked Sarah into joining a game with him, Greg and several others. She enjoyed watching Boyle and Anderson fold under the pressure of being repeatedly outplayed by a girl.

"Too bad you're not wearing shorts," Kate said in her ear. "If you propped your legs up on the table, the whole lot of them would go down in flames."

Sarah looked at her skeptically. Kate shrugged.

"it worked for me once," she said.

In the end, Sarah had been the one who was distracted by Greg telling about the morning Kate had laid out of the Black Sheep's replacement pilots for his attitude about women in general and her in particular. Her concentration wavered just long enough for Greg to lay down a straight that beat the mess she was holding. Jim, who had folded earlier, found the whole thing extremely amusing.

 **XXX**

"Did you really beat the tar out of a pilot?" Sarah asked later, as she and Kate were dressing for bed.

"Yes." Her sister's tone held a hard edge. "He was an ass. It's one thing to enjoy being someone's girl but it's something else to be treated like an object for their amusement when they're talking about it with everyone else."

Silence filled the tent. Raider scuffled around, arranging his blanket to his liking.

"Sarah?"

"Hmmm?"

"Whatever you do here . . . I don't care . . . well, I do care. . . but just don't let any of them use you." Kate paused. Sarah could hear the emotion in her voice. "You're beautiful and sweet and I don't want to see you get hurt. This pirate band wouldn't do it intentionally but they're all about the next conquest. I don't want that to be you."

"I think you've mentioned that before," Sarah said dryly. "Go to sleep, Kate, you worry too much."

"I love you, too, Sair."

 **XXX**

The next afternoon found the sisters back in the darkroom. Kate slid a piece of photo paper into the enlarger and set the camera to expose the negative. Sarah pulled several prints out of the water bath and hung them to dry. She was amazed at her sister's ability to capture split seconds of time that told such intriguing stories.

One frame was of Micklin and Greg. Micklin was brandishing a wrench. Greg looked furious. She didn't know what they were discussing but it was clear neither one of them was going to give an inch. She wondered how _that_ had ended. Since both men were still alive, she assumed the issue must have been resolved, although with this lot there was always the potential for bloodshed. The other frame showed Meatball running toward the camera with a purloined baseball in his mouth. Several men were chasing him. The dog looked delighted.

Raider was sprawled across one corner of the darkroom, taking up more than his share of the limited floor space. Sarah knew the dog was patiently frustrated with having to accompany her everywhere, but she couldn't leave him unattended. That would be asking for trouble.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Sweetheart, you got that recon film done yet?" It was Greg. Sarah thought it was cute that he called her sister sweetheart, although she noticed the tone of his voice when he used the endearment ranged from simple affection to something Sarah thought was clearly none of her business.

"Just a sec!" Kate slid the newly exposed sheet of paper into the tray of developer and watched the image form. She moved it into a tray of stop bath and called, "Come in."

Greg slipped through the door and the blackout curtain.

"I've got the negatives developed but haven't printed anything yet." Kate said. "I'll do them now, if you want to wait."

"I'll wait," Greg replied. The squadron's morning mission had been a photo recon flight over Bougainville. Colonel Lard would be calling later in the afternoon to hear his report.

"We'll do them next. Sair, those need to go into the fix." Kate pointed at more prints.

As Sarah moved them from one tray to the next, a second knock sounded.

"Katie? Is Greg in there?" It was Jim.

"Sure is."

"Can I come in?"

"The more the merrier!" Kate called back. She rolled her eyes at Sarah.

The door opened and closed and Jim pushed his way through the curtain. Four people and one large dog filled the room to its limits. Jim noticed Sarah, who was hanging prints up to dry.

"Hey, Red. If I'd known you were looking for something to do this afternoon we could have – "

"I wasn't looking for something to do. I got shanghaied," Sarah said.

"You got those recon pictures ready yet?" Jim asked Kate. "I'd like a peek at them before Lard decides how he wants to kill us next."

The morning's mission had turned out to be anything but the milk run it they had expected to be. The Japanese had been a little more possessive of their base than the American forces anticipated. The recon sweep had been intended to get an idea of aircraft numbers but as it was, quite a few of those aircraft had been airborne at the time the Black Sheep arrived. There were considerably fewer of them now.

"Just starting them, be patient." Kate told him. She shifted to pull an envelope of negatives off a shelf over the work bench. Greg stepped out of her way, which put him in Sarah's way. Sarah backed up, straight into Jim, who took advantage of her proximity to wrap his hands around her waist and pull her closer to him. She didn't protest. She didn't see any point. It wasn't like there was anywhere else she could go and, she admitted, the sensation was not unpleasant. She didn't want to give him the idea she was encouraging it, though. She thought he had quite enough ideas already.

In the general shuffle, someone stepped on Raider's tail. The dog yelped and showed remarkable restraint in not biting the first available leg.

"All right!" Kate announced, hands on hips. "There are two people and one dog too many in here." She looked at Sarah. "Out. Take him with you." She waved a hand that encompassed both Raider and Jim. Turning to Greg, she said, "You stay and help me. Sarah's on R and R." She looked at her sister. "Go relax." She winked.

 **XXX**

The concept of rest and relaxation was lost on Raider. As a working dog, he didn't see the point of down time. Sarah knew after 48 hours of hanging out under tables and in tents, the dog was bored out of his mind.

Stepping into the sunshine, she put a hand on Jim's arm.

"Would you do something for me?"

"Darlin', I thought you'd never ask." His dark eyes traveled over her face. "Where would you like to start?" His voice was a soft suggestion and totally inappropriate for the middle of a fighter base.

Sarah's grin didn't falter although her heart skipped a beat when he looked at her that way. Damn the man. He had no business making her feel like that at 1400 hours in front of God and everybody.

"Get lost."

He blinked in surprise, then chuckled.

"Only if you come with me."

"We'll end up together, I promise" she said, still grinning. "Come on. I'll need another guy, too."

The look he was giving her got even worse, if that was possible.

"Really? Never figured you for that kind of girl."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Just get Casey. Or TJ. Or anyone, it doesn't matter. And bring me a piece of your dirty laundry."

He was clearly intrigued now.

"All right." Jim turned and headed for the ops shack.

Sarah and Raider went back to Kate's tent. She gathered up the dog's tracking harness and line, glad now that she had brought them. Some girls packed dressy civilian clothes when they went on leave. She packed dog training equipment. Story of her life. She grabbed a few other odds and ends and went back to find Jim and Casey sitting on the front steps of the Sheep Pen.

"Is there a trail close by that goes inland?" Sarah waved her arm at the jungle surrounding the base. She knew the island was crisscrossed by paths established by former inhabitants. These were loosely maintained by the Black Sheep who used them for romantic rendezvous. "It doesn't need to be very long and I don't want to have to plow through heavy foliage. This is supposed to be a training exercise, not kill all of us." The afternoon was thick with heat and humidity.

"Yeah," Casey said. "There's a trail near here that runs up to the bluff above the lagoon. The trail head is behind the showers. It's about a half a mile long."

"Perfect. Here's what I need the two of you to do." Sarah laid out her plan. She loved working her dog, testing his abilities and keeping their teamwork honed. The heat ensured she would keep the session short and they wouldn't work through rough terrain, but even a short track would give Raider some much-needed mental exercise. Several other men joined the group, curiosity evident on their faces.

"You aren't going to break my pilots, are you?" Greg asked. She could tell he was kidding but Jim and Casey looked like they were having second thoughts about volunteering.

"Nurses have hurt them worse," she said. "This is a scent discrimination exercise. The two of you will start out walking side by side. Jim, you're the primary target. Casey, you'll go about a hundred yards down the trail with Jim, then turn off the path and come back here. Stay at least 20 yards parallel to the trail. Sorry, you get the tough route back through the undergrowth."

"Can't I just double back on the path?" the tow headed pilot asked. "That'd be a lot simpler."

"No, sorry," Sarah shook her head. "Your scent trail has to split off from Jim's. I need Raider to commit to following the scent he started with and ignore yours when you break away." She laughed. "You'll live, it won't be that far. Jim, you'll keep following the main trail. When you get close to the end, go a little distance off the path and find someplace to hide, just anywhere out of sight. I'm going to give you about 30 minutes, then we'll come find you."

"When Raider finds me, he's not going to put holes in me, is he?" Jim eyed the dog, who was lounging in the shade.

"No." Sarah grinned. "The context of this exercise is to find someone from a designated scent, there's no bitework involved."

Jim looked relieved.

"Course, Raider doesn't always follow context, so just don't run when he finds you," she added. "Seriously. Don't run. His job is to hold you in place once he's found you and he'll do it one way or another." She grinned broadly and made a shooing motion with her hands. "All right. Go. Get lost."

Jim and Casey stood. Jim tossed a wad of fabric at Sarah. She caught it. It was a T-shirt. The two men headed down the wide track that led through the base and disappeared around a bend toward the trail head.

After 15 minutes, Casey returned to the Sheep Pen. He was sweaty and disheveled from fighting his way through the undergrowth. Sarah bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Thank you! I owe you a drink!" she said. "Really, I mean it. Being a track layer can be thankless work."

Casey waved his hand dismissively and slumped into a chair, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "But Jim is gonna expect more than a beer, just warning you."

"I'm sure he will," Sarah muttered.

Fifteen minutes later, she checked her watch. She rose and Raider was instantly on his feet.

"Do you want me to show you where we walked in?" Casey asked.

Sarah shook her head in negation.

"No, thanks. We'll work it as a blind."

"A what?"

"A blind start," she explained. "I don't want to know where it is. I'll recognize Raider's indication when he locks onto the primary scent."

"How do you know he's tracking Jim and not a mouse or something?" Boyle asked.

"He's been trained to follow human scent and there's always a reward for him when he finds his target." Sarah explained. "I just have to trust him."

Trust your dog. It was both the simplest and most complicated truth about scent work. A dog's olfactory system was thousands of times better than a human's. The average human had five to six million scent receptors. The average German shepherd had more than 225 million. She trusted Raider with her life.

Looking around, she saw she'd collected a small audience.

"This is different than patrol work," she said. "He'll be starting with a specific scent to follow." She waved Jim's shirt. "If we were searching an area with known Japanese infiltrators, he'd be alerting on any concealed humans."

"What does he do when he finds someone?" Greg asked. He looked like he already knew the answer.

"It depends. He'll indicate to let me know they're close by, whether I can see them or not. If we're patrolling, we yell for them to give themselves up. If they don't, then I release him and he'll go to the target and hold them in place."

"Hold them in place?" Greg mused.

"Yeah. Usually barking and showing fang is enough." Sarah grinned. "If they threaten him or try to run, that's when things get exciting. It's kind of up to the dog's discretion."

"What constitutes a threat?" French asked.

"In Raider's mind? Pretty much anything except holding still."

With a small entourage of followers that included Kate and her camera, Sarah led Raider to the area near the squadron's showers. She dropped the harness over his head and knelt to buckle the straps under his belly. She could feel the big dog starting to tremble. This was his favorite game. They were going hunting. He didn't care if it was finding a specific target or an unknown. It was all hunting.

Sarah pulled on thin leather gloves and snapped a long woven line to the D-ring on the back of Raider's harness. She shoved the rolled canvas tug toy into the back waistband of her trousers, checked the canteen at her belt and coiled the line loosely on the ground. Depending on how thick the cover was, she could gather the line and follow closer to the dog as they went. For now, he would need the slack as he worked to find the start of the track.

"Ah, a girl taking her dog for a walk in the woods," Anderson waxed poetic. "Sounds relaxing."

"Not the way we do it," Sarah said through gritted teeth. Raider was bouncing with enthusiasm now. "You're welcome to follow along if you like."

"Just bring Jim back in one piece," Greg said. None of the boys seemed anxious to go for a hike through the jungle on a warm afternoon.

Sarah dropped Jim's shirt on the ground.

"Lie down," she said. Raider dropped into a crouch, the shirt between his front paws, and stuck his nose in the fabric. Sarah watched as he sniffed it.

"Go find him," she said quietly.

Sarah stepped out of out of Raider's way and lifted the line above his back so he didn't get tangled. He continued to root at the shirt, then stood and with his head down, began sweeping back and forth across the trampled dirt. Sarah picked up the shirt and shoved it into her belt. Raider worked methodically, covering the ground in a widening circle as Sarah stood in the center, playing out line as needed.

She broke into a smile when the dog's entire body whipped in a 90 degree turn and he leaped into the harness. Reading his initial indication on a fresh track was never a problem. After the first couple of tracking training sessions, she'd started wearing gloves to keep from having the skin peeled off her palms by the line. She followed him across 30 yards of trampled grass and dirt, around the showers and toward the tree line. He re-cast briefly as the cover changed, then pulled into the green-gold shade of the jungle.

The canopy of branches overhead blocked out most of the sun, providing some relief from the afternoon's heat. Raider moved along the trail at a steady gait, his nose rarely lifting more than a few inches off the ground. That lovely deep nose was one of the dog's best features and kept him immersed in the scent cone, the one to two feet of residual scent on either side of the primary scent path left by a passing human body. Sarah followed, letting the line play out to about 20 yards, keeping just enough tension to hold it out of the shepherd's way.

She watched the dog's body language, reading the slant of his ears, the loose carriage of his tail that said he was locked onto the scent trail. He was working with the single-minded focus that blocked out anything else. She had no idea where Casey had turned off and she had no idea where Jim was hiding. She didn't need to know. Her dog would tell her.

After a few minutes, Raider slammed on the brakes and whipped his head up. He air-scented, tasting the currents, then dropped his nose to the ground and began circling. Sarah backed up, staying out of his way and working the line. She figured this was where Casey had split off and Raider was sorting through the swirling disturbance of scent to decide what direction the primary had taken. Her hand moved to the T-shirt tucked in her belt, ready to re-scent the dog if he struggled.

It wasn't necessary. After casting back and forth for a moment, he dropped his nose and took off with confidence, moving forward along the trail, which had gradually begun sloping upward. Sarah paused once to offer him water from her canteen. He lapped thirstily then turned, eager to go again.

The heat was telling on both of them. She had deliberately chosen to work on a warm afternoon for both practice and conditioning. In the field, their teamwork would be tested under any number of weather conditions and she had chosen an easy scent discrimination drill in deference to the day's heat. The heat was the element of difficulty while the short length of the track and the fresh, un-aged scent made it relatively easy. Plus, a live find at the end would be incredibly motivating for her dog. Maybe not so much for Jim, Sarah mused, but definitely for Raider.

Raider's pace was slowing. Sarah deliberately put pressure on the line, pulling against him and testing his commitment. The dog dug in his paws and powered forward. She released the pressure, rewarding his effort.

The cover was starting to thin. Sarah could see patches of clear sky through the thick canopy and feel a breath of breeze.

The dog slowed, circled and made a ninety-degree turn to the west, moving off the trail into heavier brush. Sarah followed, gathering up the line as the cover grew thicker.

Raider froze. His head snapped up, body rigid. He was staring straight ahead. Sarah moved forward. Gripping the harness with one hand, she unclipped the line.

"Go find him," she said softly and released him. The dog vaulted into the undergrowth.

 **XXX**

Jim sat with his back against an ebony tree in a small clearing about 30 yards off the trail, studying the cloud formations overhead and idly slapping at bugs. This was the dumbest thing he'd ever done. Hiding in the jungle to let a dog find him? He could be enjoying a cold beer in the Sheep Pen or catching up on some rack time. Instead, here he was, sitting under a tree, being dog bait. How had she talked him into this?

He knew exactly how she'd done it. All it had taken was a smile and a flash of those green eyes and he'd have done anything she asked. To make it even worse, he didn't expect anything in return. Oh, he'd spent the last half hour thinking about the ways she _could_ pay him back. He'd probably suggest several of them to her, just because he wanted to see her reaction. But he didn't expect to collect. At least not yet.

She was 180 degrees different from the girls he usually got involved with. Granted, they were all nurses because with the exception of Kate, nurses were the only women out here. In general, nurses tended to be soft, gentle creatures. That's what made them so good at their jobs. The fact that they knew their way around the human body didn't hurt anything either.

Soft and gentle were not the first words he would use to describe Sarah Cameron, at least not on the surface. The other girls he'd kept company with paled in comparison to her. They lacked the aura of vibrant intensity that swirled around Sarah like a cloak, no matter what she was doing. Her half-wild joie de vivre captured his imagination on a number of levels. The girl he'd been seeing before he met Sarah seemed dull by comparison and God knows she'd been a wild little thing. He supposed it hadn't been lost on Jeannie McDowell that his sudden lack of interest in her had coincided with Sarah's initial visit to La Cava. He supposed she'd get over it.

His heart nearly stopped when the big shepherd crashed into the clearing, sounding off with a volley of deep barks. Raider slid to a stop on his haunches, barely a foot away from Jim's boots, paws clawing divots out of the leaf mold. He remembered Sarah telling him not to run but he couldn't have if he tried. The dog's presence was paralyzing. Raider had him pinned neatly against the tree without ever touching him. Every gleaming tooth in the dog's mouth showed and spit was flying with every bark.

Sarah stepped into the clearing behind the dog. She was smiling. Sweat rimmed the neck of her T-shirt and there was a smudge of something green across one cheekbone. Jim thought she looked incredible and not just because she could keep this crazy ass dog from eating him alive.

"Out."

Raider spun and flew back to her, throwing himself into position on her left side. She praised the dog enthusiastically, telling him what a brilliant job he'd done. She was kneeling, stroking the dog while he licked her neck. Jim wondered if the dog knew how damn lucky he was.

"Can I get up now?" he asked.

"Oh." She suddenly seemed to realize he was there. "Yeah. Sorry. Thanks, you did a great job."

She stood, stuck out a hand and with surprising strength for her slender frame, pulled him to his feet. Raider jumped up and put a paw on each of Jim's shoulders. The dog stuck his nose in the middle of his chest and inhaled.

"Yes, you found him," Sarah mumbled. She had the tip of a gloved finger in her mouth and was yanking the leather off her sweaty hand. Looking up at Jim, she added, "He likes to confirm that you're who he was looking for." Jim tentatively scratched the dog's neck. He was a nice enough dog for all that he could scare the crap out of a guy just by looking at him. Even now, the shepherd's dark eyes studied him as if taking his measure.

Jim watched as Sarah pulled the piece of rolled canvas out of her waistband. On a word, Raider launched at the rough fabric and tugged fiercely. Sarah matched the dog's power in a game of give and take that both obviously enjoyed in spite of the heat.

"Is that his reward for everything?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Unless he gets to bite on someone wearing a sleeve. He likes that even better." She was breathless as she backpedaled to stay upright against the dog's onslaught.

"Does he ever get tired of it?"

"No. Out." Raider released the tug and leaned against Sarah's leg, tongue lolling. "Here." She handed it to Jim. The dog's eyes followed the transfer with eerie stillness. "Hold it by the ends and keep it horizontal. If you hold it vertical, he'll climb it and trust me, you don't want that. Keep your fingers close together, tuck your thumb underneath. He'll only hit the bite area but if your fingers are sticking out, well, that's your fault. His release is 'get it.' His give word is 'out.' " She laughed, eyes sparkling. "And for God's sake, don't get hurt, I promised Greg I'd bring you back in one piece."

Taking the rough canvas, Jim gripped each end, making damn sure his fingers were out of the way. He held it low and to the right of his leg, like he'd seen her do. The dog was watching him intently now, ears up hard, body quivering in anticipation.

"Get it!"

Jim had landed in the ocean after jumping out of a burning plane and had slugged his way through countless bar brawls. He thought he was prepared for the impact of a dog grabbing a toy. He was wrong.

Raider hit the canvas low and hard, flinging his body sideways and nearly taking Jim off his feet with the impact. Jim got his balance back and hung on. He wasn't sure what was worse, the deranged glee in the dog's eyes or the fact that he'd gone from calm to demon possessed in a matter of seconds. Reflexively, he clenched the rolled canvas harder, pulling away. The beast liked that even better, digging his hind feet into the ground and pulling backward in opposition, the crushing power of his jaws ensuring the object could not escape.

Raider thrashed his head, jerking the tug fiercely, and Jim felt the vibration all the way up his arms and into his spine. Mother of God. How did a girl so slender control _this_? Raider braced his front paws on his thigh and whipped his head back and forth, giving the tug a good thrashing. Some distant part of Jim's mind realized the dog was totally silent. The only noise was his breathing and the sound of paws scuffling against the ground.

"Out!" he choked. The dog released and backed off, eyes locked hard on the toy, body tensed for another game. Very slowly, Jim handed it back to Sarah. He could still feel the dog's power reverberating through his arms.

"Welcome to my world," she said, grinning.

 **XXX**

Sarah offered Raider water, pouring slowly from her canteen into her hand as the dog lapped. She could feel sweat trickling between her shoulder blades.

Jim pointed to the east. "We can go down to the beach and follow it back to the base. It'll be a nicer walk. There's an access trail that runs down the cliff up there." He gestured another 50 yards ahead where the jungle gave way to a rocky outcropping.

Sarah was relieved. The breeze blowing up from the ocean was refreshing and she wasn't looking forward to slogging back through stifling heat of the jungle. She unbuckled Raider's harness and turned him loose.

"C'mon," Jim waved for her to follow.

Sarah stopped, momentarily stunned, as she stepped out from under the thinning canopy of trees. She was atop a bluff overlooking a pristine and very private lagoon. Turquoise water lapped at a white sand beach wrapped on three sides by sheer rock walls. She recognized it instantly from Kate's description, although she wondered if her sister had ever seen the place in the daylight. Among the Black Sheep, it was the equivalent of a lovers' lane and Sarah knew Kate and Greg went there often.

"It's a steep trail down," Jim said, breaking through her thoughts. He reached out for her hand. She took it without hesitation and the two of them slipped and slid down a rough stone staircase chiseled into the cliff face. Raider, with his lower center of gravity, navigated it much more easily than either of the humans. Once they reached the beach, the dog plunged into the water, snapping at the waves as they washed ashore.

"Your dog has the right idea," Jim said. He grinned at her. "We got nothing but time. Whattaya say?" He bent and untied his boots, pulling them off and stuffing his socks inside. He started to pull his shirt over his head.

Sarah's eyes widened.

"I am not skinny dipping with you," she sputtered.

"Why? Don't you know me well enough yet?"

"That has nothing to do with it!"

Jim stripped off his shirt. His hands dropped to the button of his pants. She looked away. Then she looked back. He'd turned away from her and she had a moment to admire the lean muscle of his back as his pants dropped to the sand. Wearing just his skivvies, he waded into the lagoon.

Oh what the hell, she thought. She was hot and the water looked inviting. Kate was having a bad influence on her. Or maybe it was something about this place that made people want to take their clothes off. She kicked off her boots and yanked down her trousers, hurrying before she came to her senses. That was as far as she was going, she told herself, tugging her T-shirt down to mid-thigh. A bra and panties covered just as much as a bikini swimsuit, after all, so she wasn't being immodest. Not really. She'd keep the T-shirt on for good measure.

"Damn, Red, you got a gorgeous set of legs on you." Jim's open appreciation sent heat rushing through her as she waded in after him. The sensation of water swirling against her skin saved her from replying. She gasped with delight, throwing herself forward without a second thought. She ducked under the surface, rinsing away the sweat of the afternoon. The sea breeze was deliciously cool as she stood up.

Jim's eyes moved lazily over her figure.

"We might as well be skinny dipping, darlin'," he said and she was aware of the T-shirt now clinging to her like a second skin.

She flung a handful of water in his direction, the spray catching him in the face. Raider appeared out of nowhere, jumping between them with reckless abandon, sending plumes of water arcing skyward as he cavorted in the surf.

"Go find a stick," Sarah said, pointing to the beach. The dog splashed out and returned within a minute, dragging something that had been a tree in another life.

"You never do anything halfway, do you?" Sarah snapped off a smaller branch and she and Jim took turns throwing it into deeper water for the dog to fetch. Sarah swam out and back with him several times, thinking how much nicer this azure and white paradise was than the farm ponds and rivers she'd grown up swimming in. After half a dozen throws, Raider took his stick and trotted up on the beach. He settled in a shady spot to gnaw on it. Sarah waded toward the shore after him.

Jim caught her in a few strides.

"What's your hurry?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her down onto the wet sand, half in, half out of the water. They landed, laughing, in a tumble of arms and legs. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. When she tried to get up, he didn't let go.

"You're not getting away that easy."

She pressed her hands against his chest as she caught her balance and sat up, straddling him. His body was hot against her now cool skin.

"What are you doing?" She felt she should say something even as his hands slid under the hem of her shirt, then down to cup her hips.

"You have to ask?"

The heat of his gaze was almost tangible as it lingered on her breasts, her nipples hard through the wet fabric. She caught his eyes, read the unspoken pleasure in them. It was the kind of look that made her think of places wrapped in shadow and heat. Damnit. That was the second time today he'd done that.

Jim ran a finger lazily down the outside of her shirt, from her throat to her belly button, and stopped. His touch was light, undemanding. She closed her hand over his and started to push it away, then stopped, uncertain.

"You're beautiful, Red." That good old boy smile was back, an open invitation, and Sarah knew exactly what would happen if she accepted it. At least she thought she did.

"Jim . . ." her words were lost as he rolled her onto the wet sand. He pinned her arms over her head, her fingers tangled with his as he lowered himself against her. She didn't resist, her lips brushing his, tasting salt. Sensation threatened to engulf her, heat and touch and taste dragging her under. She kept the kiss light, a feather's touch.

"You never stop, do you?" Her voice was a whisper against his lips.

"Do you want me to stop?" His mouth moved down her neck.

She didn't and he knew it. She could feel her self-control starting to fray, one thread snapping at a time. His touch was taking her places she'd never been before.

A low growl echoed from somewhere about a hundred miles away.

Jim lifted his mouth from the hollow of her throat and she felt him go motionless. He said quietly, "You might want to tell your dog you're okay with this." Still careful not to move, he added, "Unless you're not."

Sarah struggled to drag herself back to reality. Raider was standing next to them. She could see the tan fur of his forelegs when she turned her head. The dog had moved so quietly she hadn't heard him approaching. Not that she'd been paying any attention. She could hear the soft vibration in his throat. His eyes were pinned on Jim, thoughtful, assessing.

"Raid," she softly, "Go lie down." When he hesitated, she said, "Raid. Now." Clearly this was a scenario she'd never trained for but the dog listened, trotting a few yards away and laying down, eyes watchful. This was human behavior he'd never seen before and he wasn't sure it was appropriate.

The spell was broken. Sarah shifted, suddenly very aware of Jim's body against hers in spite of the surf breaking around them. What the hell was she doing? Gathering the shreds of her self-control, she wrenched away from him and stood up. He let her go.

"We should head back," she said, tugging her shirt down. "They're going to send a search party after us if we're gone much longer."

She didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed when he didn't try to stop her.

 **XXX**

Casey met them as they came up to the base from the beach trail head.

"Where have you two been? And why are you all wet?" he said suspiciously.

Sarah ignored him. Her shirt had dried off a little on the walk back but clearly not enough. She had a pretty good idea Casey could put two and two together and she didn't doubt he would share the results with all the other Black Sheep. If her reputation hadn't been on thin ice after her first night here, when the occupants of the Sheep Pen watched her leave with Jim and not come back, no doubt it would be in tatters by the time this story got around. They'd been gone entirely longer than was necessary and if she hadn't gotten a grip on her senses, they wouldn't be back yet.

"I need to rinse the salt water out of Raider's fur," she said, refusing to meet Casey's speculative look.

"There's a fresh water spigot behind the mess," Jim suggested. "Or you could shower here and rinse him off at at the same time. I'd be happy to help." She caught the tone in his voice and hoped Casey wasn't listening. It would only add fuel to the fire.

"No." Her voice wasn't as firm as she'd intended.

"One of these days, darlin', you're gonna get tired of telling me no." Jim regarded her with a lazy smile.

 _He was right,_ she thought. _And that was the problem_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Absence makes the heart . . .**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

"How'd the track go?" Kate didn't turn from her typewriter. "Did Raider find Jim?"

"Yep, no problem," Sarah said. She dropped the dog's harness and line on the foot of her bunk in Kate's tent.

"How was the lagoon?"

Sarah stared at the back of Kate's head. More than once, she'd thought her sister was psychic.

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Kate turned, grinning. "I know that trail ends near the overlook and I knew Jim would suggest you come back by the beach and it was a hot day so . . . how was the lagoon?" She took in Sarah's wet hair and rumpled T-shirt. "It looks like you ended up in it and I'd guess you had company."

Freshly rinsed, Raider sprawled in the middle of the floor and fell asleep.

"We did." Sarah's voice was cautious.

"And?"

"It was nice."

"Anything else?"

"Would you stop it!" Sarah said in exasperation. "There wasn't anything else."

"Oh yes there was, Sarah Cameron." Kate pinned her sister with cool gray look. "Are you going to tell me about it or do you want me to start guessing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sarah fiddled with her gear bag, pulling out clean clothes.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. There are two things that place is good for and swimming is only one of them."

"It was the middle of the day!" Sarah looked horrified.

Kate's grin broadened.

"Is that a problem?"

 _No, it really hadn't been a problem._

"He . . . we didn't . . . it's none of your business!" Sarah spun to face her sister. She didn't honestly care if Kate knew she and Jim had been . . . what exactly had they been doing? One kiss didn't constitute making out, did it? A little voice in her head said it didn't matter how many kisses were involved if you were rolling around half-naked in the surf with a guy while your mind said no and your body said God, don't stop. He hadn't really touched her . . . at least not anywhere he shouldn't have. . . just his hands around her waist and cradling her hips and then his finger sliding slowly down between her breasts. She closed her eyes and could feel the heat of his body against hers in the water. The memory ricocheted through her with a physical intensity.

Something must have shown on her face. Kate's voice softened.

"You're right, Sair, it's not any of my business and I'm not trying to be nosy." She laughed. "Well, yeah, okay, I'm being nosy. I just wondered if I needed to go kill him for getting out of line with you."

Sarah fixed her with what she hoped was a confident look.

"How about you let me handle it?"

"Better you than me." Kate said cheerfully and turned back to her typewriter. "Give me a minute and we'll go shower at Dee's."

Sarah let out her breath. She'd handle it all right. She'd just keep telling him no. Until she couldn't.

 **XXX**

Greg stopped for a nightcap later that evening. Sarah was telling him and Kate what the K9 teams were doing in the theater when Jim walked in. He looked for an available chair and finding none, dropped onto the floor next to Sarah's bunk. Raider gave him a sleepy stare, then thumped his tail in acknowledgement. Meatball was sitting on Kate's lap, looking smug.

"Come in," Kate said drily. "Pull up some floor and make yourself at home."

Greg passed him the bottle of Scotch they were sharing. As usual, there were no glasses to be found in Kate's train wreck of a tent/field office. Jim drank, then handed the bottle to Sarah, winking as he caught her eye. She gave him a private smile and hoped the heat rising through her wasn't reflected in her cheeks. She tipped the bottle up, allowing herself a very small indulgence, enjoying the tendrils of smoke that lingered in her throat.

"We're still seeing a lot of Japanese infiltration, especially to the north," she continued, shoving thoughts of that afternoon out of her mind. "They drop one or two snipers near Allied bases on islands that are supposed to be cleared. It's nothing large scale but we're losing men and equipment. And we're losing time. The units under fire are pinned down and can't do anything. Pilots can't get to their planes. Engineering companies can't move. One sniper can immobilize a whole base. More often than not, Tojo's been extracted before a patrol can find him. Foot soldiers can walk right by and never see them. That's where my dogs come in."

"Your dogs?" Greg raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. My dogs." Sarah grinned, emphasizing the plural. "Kinda like Micklin's planes."

"No wonder he likes you," Greg said.

"When I'm not out hunting . . ." Sarah caught herself. Looking at the tent ceiling, she corrected, "when I'm not _doing reconnaissance to neutralize an enemy presence_ , I'm helping establish new teams. We've got a lot of new dogs coming over but they don't all come with handlers, so they have to be matched up once they get here. That's what I'm really supposed to be doing - training handlers - only I'm working patrols more often than not."

"Sounds like you're never in one place very long, Red." Jim took the bottle and leaned back. Sarah had changed into shorts after showering and the curve of her thigh was pretty much at his eye level. She made a concerted effort to ignore his gaze. When he looked at her that way, she could practically feel his fingers against her skin. While this wasn't unpleasant, it didn't make it very easy to carry on any kind of sensible conversation. Damnit. His head was practically in her lap.

"I'm not," she admitted, wrenching her eyes - and her mind - off the way his hair curled at the base of his neck. "I don't log as much air time as you boys but sometimes it feels like it. They told me Rendova would be the central training base for new dogs coming into the theater and that's where I'd be stationed but it's not really working out that way."

"How's Raider feel about flying?" Kate asked with a shudder. Her aversion to air travel was legend.

"He just likes to go wherever I go," Sarah said. "Planes, jeeps, boats, we flew in a duck once . . . he doesn't really care how he gets there. We even spent a couple of days on a carrier, between the Russells and Malaita. That was not a fun trip. Neither of us are a big fan of the Navy."

That brought a round of laughter and the conversation changed to lighter topics. They passed the bottle until the patter of rain broke things up. The men left for their tents before the sprinkles turned to a downpour. It seemed like it rained all the time these days. Storm season was in full bloom in the South Pacific.

 **XXX**

The next morning, the Black Sheep took off at 0800 for a routine patrol over the Slot. Sarah and Kate were returning from the flight line when one of the com shack personnel intercepted them.

"Sergeant Cameron?" He held out a sheet of paper. "This just came for you."

Sarah took it and read quickly.

" _Transport will arrive 0900 on La Cava to pick up you and Raid. Needed on Choiseul. R and R over. Owe you one. Maj. J. Taylor."_

Sarah sighed and shrugged at Kate's questioning look.

"No rest for the wicked," she said. "It's time to go hunting."

Raider wagged his tail hopefully. It had been fun to find the man yesterday but he really hoped he'd be allowed to find someone he could bite next time.

 **XXX**

Radio chatter on the way home after the mission had turned to women. There was a fair amount of speculation regarding a new crop of nurses due to be rotated onto La Cava in a few days. Their arrival would necessitate a welcome party, which the boys regarded as a prime opportunity to stake their claims on any female personnel who caught their fancy. They'd found it was best to act fast, before the new girls wised up or the nurses with permanent posting at the hospital clued them in regarding the Black Sheep.

Then things got a little more specific.

"Hey Gutterman, you get lucky yesterday?" Bobby Boyle queried.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Jim returned. He was surprised it had taken them this long to start on him.

"Aw, come on, spill it. You spent a lot of time with Sarah the last couple of days. She looks like she don't mind your company. And the two of you came back yesterday afternoon looking like you'd been baptized and got religion. What'd you do out there that took so long?"

"Why? You writing a book?" Jim was deliberately vague. Any other time he would have cheerfully relived those stolen moments for the benefit of both the squadron's entertainment and his ego but now that he thought about it, he didn't think what had happened on the beach was anybody's business but his and Sarah's.

"We kinda got a bet going," Boyle said. He was the unit's self-appointed bookmaker.

"A bet?" Jim grumbled. "What kind of bet?"

"On you and Sarah, what do you think?" French chimed in.

"What about?" Jim was starting to sense where this was headed.

"We figure it's not really a question of _if_ , it's a question of _when_. So . . . did you?" Boyle's curiosity carried over the radio static.

"Yeah, Jim, is she a natural redhead?" TJ often said things to his tent mate in the air that he wouldn't say on the ground. He figured Jim had time to get his temper under control before they landed. If not, TJ could hold his own until the other boys pulled them apart. It had happened before.

"Just drop it!" Jim snarled.

"That's enough," Greg broke in. "That's Kate little sister you're talking about. She hears you talking like that and you'll answer to her."

That effectively ended the conversation. There were some grudging acknowledgements and the topic changed to trading Aussie wine and silk stockings for vintage Scotch with the Seabees on Guadalcanal.

 **XXX**

"Sarah asked me to thank you for showing her a good time while she was here," Kate said to Jim. She was walking back to the Sheep Pen with the pilots after the squadron returned. She still wasn't sure how _much_ of a good time Jim had shown her sister but she'd agreed to pass along the message. Sarah and Raider had left on the transport for Choiseul three hours ago.

Jim scratched his head.

"Did she leave you a good-bye kiss for me?"

"Absolutely not!" Kate tried to look offended but couldn't help smiling. Jim would never change. "You'll have to collect it yourself, next time you see her. Maybe you can charge her interest."

"Not sure when that's going to be," he mused, more to himself than anyone else.

"Aww, let it go, James," Bob Anderson said. "Saturday, the new nurses arrive and you'll have the opportunity to collect all the kisses a man could wish for. Just think of those lovely young beauties, all alone in the world, needing male guidance to help them along the way . . ." he wandered off, still extolling the virtues of the pending nurses.

Greg snagged Jim by the elbow as Kate and the other men flowed around them into the Sheep Pen.

"Free advice is usually worth what you pay for it," he said quietly, "but don't take that girl for granted, Jim. I don't know how much the two of you plan on seeing each other, but if she's anything like Kate, I'm guessing there's a whole lot more to her than just a pretty face."

For once, Jim didn't have anything smart-assed to say. He didn't have anything to say at all. He didn't know how much they were going to see of each other either. He wasn't sure how much of him she _wanted_ to see. Judging from her reaction the previous afternoon, she was what he'd call a definite maybe. He followed Greg inside for a drink, wishing he could have said good-bye to her before she left. Her and that damn dog.

 **XXX**

The highly anticipated new nurses arrived on Saturday afternoon. By 1900 hours, the traditional welcome party at the Sheep Pen was primed to kick off.

Jim lay on his bunk, watching TJ knot his tie. The scent of soap and aftershave hung on the warm evening air.

"You'd better get cleaned up or you'll be late," TJ observed. "All the good ones will be taken."

"Maybe I'll come up later."

"What's with you? You feel all right?" TJ ran a comb through his hair.

"I'm fine. Just not in the mood for it." Jim picked up a tattered copy of Stars and Stripes.

"You really got it bad for her, don't you?" TJ said. "Sarah, I mean."

"No," Jim snarled. "I don't got it bad for nobody. I just don't feel like being in a crowd tonight. Besides, I thought you had a thing going with Jeannie. Won't it piss her off if you're chasing after the new girls?"

"That thing with Jeannie was kind of a one night deal. All she wanted to do was talk about you. I had a hard time shutting her up. Finally managed though." He edged toward the door, unsure how Jim was going to receive that bit of information.

Jim shrugged indifferently. TJ let out his breath.

"You won't know what you're missing," he tossed over his shoulder as he left the tent.

Jim spent 30 minutes trying to read a newspaper he'd already read half a dozen times, then tossed it on the floor. He hadn't lied to TJ, not entirely. He really didn't feel like being in a crowd tonight. And he really didn't care what TJ, or anyone else, did with Jeannie McDowell. Which was probably a good thing because he realized, in hindsight, she didn't either.

He'd read about the ongoing sniper raids on Choiseul and wondered if Sarah and Raider were still there. He wondered what they were doing tonight. He was glad she had that bad ass dog to take care of her, although he didn't doubt for a minute she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She was nearly as bad ass as her dog but he could still see the uncertainty in those green eyes when he'd rolled her onto her back at the lagoon. She hadn't fought it but she hadn't yielded either, he thought, remembering the curves of her body pressed against his.

That train of thought wasn't taking him anywhere he wanted to go. Grumbling, he finally pulled on a clean uniform and headed for the Sheep Pen. A couple of drinks wouldn't hurt and it sure as hell beat laying around here feeling sorry for himself. Or worse. Maybe he could find a poker game to take his mind off her. Poker made him think about betting and that made him think about Boyle's stupid bet. _When, not if._ He wasn't so sure they weren't still at _if._ And nothing was sure as hell going to happen with the two of them on two different islands, a couple of hundred miles apart.

Music and light spilled out of the Sheep Pen and the party was in full swing when he walked in. Jim helped himself to a beer and leaned on the bar, surveying the room. The new crop of nurses seemed to have been accounted for. TJ was slow dancing to a fast song with a pretty blonde. Anderson was seated at one of the tables with a curvy brunette on his lap. She was feeding him pretzels while he quoted obscure poetry. It even looked like Bragg had found companionship with a short, stacked strawberry blonde who was hanging on his every word. Greg and some of the guys had a poker game going. Kate was throwing darts with Boyle and French. From the look on their faces, they were getting their butts handed to them.

"It's good to see you again, Jim," said a voice at his elbow. He turned to see a girl with a lush figure and wavy brown hair cradling an empty whisky glass. She smiled up at him. "Buy a girl a drink?"

Jeannie McDowell. He recognized the look in her eyes, the one that said she had him square in her sights. Clearly she'd gotten over being angry at him and didn't appear very broken up that things hadn't worked out with TJ, either.

"Uh, sure." He turned, reaching for a Scotch bottle behind the bar. He tipped a generous splash into her glass and handed it back to her.

"I missed you last weekend," she said. Her scarlet lips curved into a pretty pout.

"I was around."

"But you were too busy with that silly old poker game to have any time for me." She lowered her lashes and gave him a demure gaze. "I've _really_ missed you."

Jim realized detachedly that her calculated look didn't have nearly the same effect as when Sarah did it. The smoky heat Sarah generated with a casual glance could make his socks roll up and down, whether she intended it that way or not. Jeannie's version reminded him of a feral cat stalking prey.

"I see that didn't stop you from leaving with Wiley last Saturday," he said, returning his gaze to the room in general. "My wingman, Jeannie? Really?" He didn't even try to keep the disgust out of his voice.

"Aww, Jim, can we forget about that?" She slipped her arm through his and leaned her head against his chest. "Sometimes a girl just needs some . . . company . . . you know?"

She stood on her tiptoes and let her tongue flick along his earlobe.

"Maybe we could go somewhere and talk about it," she said softly.

Jim knew exactly what Jeannie meant by talking and he wasn't in the mood for it. At least not with her. Although if he were being honest with himself, he considered it for about two seconds. She was a guaranteed good time, no doubt about that. She'd proven it more than once and in a variety of interesting ways. With sudden clarity, he realized it would be nice to have feelings for a girl that lasted beyond a tumble in the dark.

Jeannie sipped her drink and ran her tongue suggestively along the rim of the glass, never taking her eyes off him. Her blatant invitation left nothing to the imagination. He wondered what in God's name he'd ever seen in her beyond her complete willingness to do anything he wanted. And she'd done it with a proficiency that suggested she'd done it before. A lot. Now that he thought about it, that wasn't nearly as appealing as it used to be.

He shifted, finding her touch more annoying than arousing. His movement wasn't lost on her. Before he could think of a way to distance himself from the situation, those feral cat's eyes blazed. If he was looking for trouble, he'd just hit the jackpot.

"So it's true then, what the other boys said," she flared.

"I dunno. What'd they say?" He sipped his beer, wishing he was anywhere else.

"That you're involved with that Army dog handler." Her words dripped scorn. She was not used to men saying no to her, especially after she'd said yes to them. She wasn't going down without a fight. Which would be a first, Jim thought.

"Got a problem with that?" He could see this was headed downhill fast. He should have skipped the beer and gone straight to whisky.

"A _dog_ handler?" Jeannie switched back to being coy. "Really, Jim, you can do better than that. What's she got that I don't?" She stepped into him again, pressing her breast against his arm and running her tongue over her upper lip.

For once, he didn't say the first things that came to mind. _Class. Self-esteem. Drop dead gorgeous legs. The kind of kisses that drove the thought of every other woman he'd ever pursued straight out of his mind and slammed the door behind them._

Instead, he said the second.

"She knows how to say no."

To her credit, Jeannie didn't hit him. Her laugh was low and husky.

"That doesn't seem like your type of girl at all. You liked it when I said yes," she purred. "And you made sure I said it . . . so . . . many . . . times." Her index finger traced the muscle of his forearm.

"That's before I figured out how often you were saying it. Me? Wiley? Who's next? Are you working your way through the Black Sheep?"

She hit him then.

Her palm connected with his cheek in a stinging slap. His head rocked back but he held his ground. He realized awkwardly she could probably say the same thing about him and the nursing staff. He wasn't _that_ bad, was he?

It wasn't the first time a girl had slapped him. It was, however, one of the more spectacularly public times. Pretty much everyone in the Sheep Pen was staring. A few of the men chuckled. A few of them looked sympathetic. Kate was watching with a faint, knowing smile.

Jeannie whirled and stormed away.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," he called.

Jim caught Greg looking his way. His CO lifted his glass and smiled. Jim sauntered across to the table where Greg and a couple of other Black Sheep who had steady girls were playing cards. He felt better than he had since Sarah left a few days ago.

"Deal me in," he said, pulling out a chair. "I got nothing better to do."

Greg shoved a bottle in his direction.

"How about a little wishful drinking?"

Jim poured whiskey into a canteen cup.

"Yepper," he said. He knew exactly what he was wishing for.

 **XXX**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry HQ**

 **A week later**

Sarah pulled off her boots and collapsed on her bunk with a groan. She wanted to sleep around the clock. The more Japanese infiltrators she and her dogs flushed out, the more they sent. The K9 patrols were stopping them, though. The dogs were nothing short of amazing.

She and Raider had been rotated out, sent back to Rendova to rest and, judging from the amount of paper work waiting for her here, fly a desk for the next month. She opened an eye and looked at the desk in question. None of the paperwork had gone away. She closed her eye.

She'd made sure Raider was comfortable with food and water and left him in the spacious kennel behind the tents. With multiple K9 units on the base, the men had built a series of secure kennels for the dogs. The handlers - her included – preferred to have their dogs with them most of the time but it was occasionally necessary to have a break.

Sarah knew after she fell asleep, Raider could round up half the Japanese Imperial Navy and drive them through her tent without her waking up. He was not the sort of dog who could be left to his own devices without collateral damage. After seeing to his creature comforts, she'd showered and grabbed a quick bite. Now, all she wanted was uninterrupted sleep.

"Cameron?" It was Eddie McGivern, one of the sharpshooters in her unit. His Oklahoma drawl reminded her a whole lot of Jim and for a disjointed moment she expected him to call her darlin' and say something totally inappropriate that would make her laugh.

"Cameron? You awake?"

Reality pushed in. Not Jim. She groaned and swung her feet off the bunk, shoving herself upright. It didn't seem right to have a conversation with one of the men while laying flat on her back. Plus there was the very real possibility she would fall asleep in mid-sentence.

"What is it, Eddie?"

"Mail call. This came while you were gone. It got mixed in with some of my stuff." He held out an envelope. She was ready to tell him to put it on her desk with everything else growing there when the handwriting caught her eye. It was from Kate.

"Thanks!" She took the letter.

"Glad to see you back. Good hunting?"

"Yeah, it was. Hey, how about target practice tomorrow?"

Eddie laughed at her.

"Sure thing but you don't look like you'll be awake 'til Tuesday at least."

"Tuesday then." He left and Sarah ripped open the envelope. Kate's familiar looping hand filled the page.

 _Dear Sarah,_

 _I think of you every day and pray for your safety and Raider's. There's not much new going on here – same war, different day. Greg says hello and wants to know when you can come back and negotiate some things for him with Micklin. He thinks the two of you are cut from the same cloth. I have no idea if that's a good thing or not._

 _Jim was distraught_ (she'd drawn a smiley face near the words) _that you left without giving him a proper good-bye kiss. So watch out the next time you see him. I might have suggested he charge you interest on that missed kiss._ _  
_

And when will that be? Sarah wondered. Nothing about their relationship could even be remotely considered steady. So far, the time they'd spent together had been more accidental than anything else.

 _There was an amusing little interlude at the Sheep Pen last night. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. One of Jim's old flames showed up and was practically drooling over him. I know her by reputation and it's not a good one. I wasn't close enough to hear exactly what Jim said to her but he looked less than enthusiastic and then she smacked him a good one and left._

 _I don't know what you did to him, little sis, but you sure made an impression. I've ever seen that boy tell a girl to leave him alone. On second thought, please DO NOT tell me what you did to him._ (Another smiley face.) _That is more than I ever need to know._

 _In any event, he still drinks as much as ever and he and Boyle had a knock-down, drag-out fight when they got back from a mission a few days ago. You'd think somebody Boyle's size would have better sense than to piss off somebody Jim's size but apparently he didn't. It took Greg, Casey and Anderson to break it up. No idea what it was all about and Greg changes the subject when I ask (I haven't given up), but it's all water under the bridge now and no one has tried to kill anyone lately. You know what those guys are like._

Kate went on for a few more paragraphs about the weather (stormy), the missions (dangerous) and the 214's battle with Colonel Lard (never ending). She signed off with admonitions for Sarah to be careful and suggested perhaps her next R and R could sync with the Black Sheep's on Espritos so they could see each other again.

Sarah set the letter down. Her mind was restless now, not inviting sleep. Yeah. She knew what they were like. Why in the world was she letting herself get involved with one of them? It wasn't like Jim was the best looking guy she'd ever met. He wasn't homely, either, just kind of on the cute side of plain.

So what was it about him? She couldn't put her finger on it. She really did think he had a nice ass and she wouldn't mind putting her fingers on that. Crap. It was easier to deal with those thoughts when he was nowhere around and she could think about risky behavior without having to take any action on it.

He had that good old boy charm going for him. That smile and those dark eyes that lit up when he saw her. The way he looked at her made her heart skip a beat. It made her feel like she was the only girl he saw, no matter who else was around. Like she was something he valued beyond whatever they happened to be doing at the moment. Which was probably a good thing because what they'd done so far had been pretty limited in scope. She knew better than to think any kind of relationship worth having could be based on a roll in the hay. Or beach.

Sometimes she'd caught him looking at her like Raider looked at a particularly tasty bone the cook had saved for him. She was very familiar with _that_ look, too. It was impossible to work around men for as long as she had and not know the difference.

Sometimes it was a combination of both and that spelled trouble.

She got up and prowled around her tent. Opening a trunk, she pulled out a sketch pad. It was one of the few leisure pursuits she had time for here. Flipping to a blank page, she propped the pad atop the mess on her desk and picked up a pencil. Her hand began to transfer her thoughts onto the paper.

She liked the way she felt when they were together – a little reckless, a little more willing to push the envelope of caution. Or whatever passed for caution in a war zone. Kate had always told Sarah _she_ was the sensible one. If this relationship kept going, her sister might need to re-think that, Sarah thought dryly.

Her fingers worked independently of her thoughts, graphite strokes creating a familiar image on the page. Hair, curling at the temples. Flight suit, rumpled and open at the neck. Stubble shadowing his jaw. That easy going attitude that promised a good time. All she had to do was say yes.

There hadn't been that many men in Sarah's life. True, she was surrounded by them – her CO, the boys in her unit, other dog handlers, the pilots at 149, the Black Sheep on her random visits to La Cava. Good lord, you couldn't swing a cat without hitting a man. But romantic entanglements had been practically nonexistent. Before Jim, she hadn't been interested and even if she was, she didn't have time. She was either training new teams, out on patrol, swamped with paperwork or sound asleep. That pretty much summed up her life.

On the rare occasion when she had time for social interaction, men were put off by a girl who could out shoot them on the range and beat them at the poker table, no matter pretty she was. Not to mention she was accompanied 95 percent of the time by a dog who didn't like anyone.

Which brought her full circle back to Jim. He didn't seem to mind any of that. He was even okay with Raider after the dog had effectively put an end to whatever it was they'd been doing that afternoon on the beach. Was he a romantic entanglement? A convenient opportunity? Their afternoon on the beach had certainly been a convenient opportunity. If Raider hadn't decided to stick his big nose in the middle of it, things might have ended a lot differently.

She was still sketching without conscious thought. Eyes, dark, echoing the invitation of that lazy smile. _One of these days, darlin', you're gonna get tired of telling me no.  
_

She was still thinking about that as she closed the cover of her sketchbook and toppled onto her bunk, asleep before she hit the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: 'It's a fixin' to git messy'**

 **Two weeks later**

 **15 angels, somewhere off the coast of Rendova**

"Damage report!" Greg called over the radio. "I know you guys collected some lead, how bad is it?" The squadron was on its way home from what should have been a routine afternoon patrol. Routine meant they'd ended up in a full-blown dog fight after surprising a squadron of Zeroes near Munda. Although out-numbered, the Black Sheep had been victorious but not without collateral damage.

"Pappy, I got big problems," TJ's voice came back.

Greg wasn't surprised.

"How bad is it, TJ?"

"Oil pressure's dropping and engine's smoking like one of Micklin's cigars."

"Think you can nurse it home?"

"No, sir." TJ sounded a little more panicky than usual.

"We're five miles out of Rendova. Can keep it in the air that long?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll radio the tower and tell them you're coming in. The mechanics at the 149 can take a look at it. Jim, you set down with him."

"I'll take care of him, Pappy," Jim confirmed. "Hey TJ, see if you can get that thing on the ground without any more parts falling off it. Micklin's gonna have your hide the way it is."

Greg looked at the towering wall of cumulonimbus clouds off his plane's port side. The storm had been chasing them for the last 25 miles, the massive thunderheads building with the instability of the late afternoon atmosphere.

"The rest of you meatheads, we'd better haul for home. Nobody wants to be up here when that system busts loose. TJ, you and Jim may have to ride it out on the ground and come home tomorrow."

"Hey James, isn't Sarah Cameron stationed on Rendova?" Bobby Anderson's voice was teasing. "I bet she'll be happy to have you sleep over. TJ, dunno where you'll go."

"I'll be happy just to be on the ground in one piece," TJ said through gritted teeth as his plane shuddered.

"Hey Jim, give my regards to Sarah," Don called out. "Ask her when she's coming back to see us again."

"I don't think she'd be coming to see you, French," Jim drawled.

"Maybe I could change her mind," Don said.

"You looking for some missing teeth?"

"I don't see your name written on that pretty little ass," Don fired back.

"Maybe not, but I'll bet he's had his hands on it," Boyle said. "Right Jim?"

"That ain't none of your business, Bobby boy."

For once, Greg noticed, Jim took the high road instead of diving into specifics like he usually did. Greg knew a little more about those specifics than he probably should, since he'd coaxed them out of Kate. He hadn't really needed to know but the process of getting the information had been its own reward. It seemed his executive officer and Kate's sister had done more than dog training the last afternoon she was on La Cava, although Kate was a little vague on what had actually happened. Apparently Sarah hadn't been forthcoming with details, either. Since Jim was still alive and Kate didn't seem to be plotting murder, Greg decided he was staying out of it.

"Maybe she likes her men short and swarthy." Don didn't give up.

"I think she likes them tall and Texan," Boyle said. "But us short guys can always hope. That girl's a walking wet dream."

"One more word outta you, Boyle, and you're gonna get pounded even shorter," Jim snarled.

"Knock it off." Greg sounded resigned. The problem with high spirited pilots was that they were just as willing to go after each other as they were to go after the enemy. "Jim, get TJ down in one piece. And don't start anything with the 149 or the 137 that I'll have to come over and settle." He paused, then added, "Or that Kate is going to clean your clock for when you get home."

 **XXX**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry HQ**

" _If it has tires or testicles, it's going to give you trouble."_

Sarah's grandmother, Claire Cameron, said that a lot.

Her grandmother had been on to something, Sarah thought, surveying her jeep. The damned thing had a flat tire and here she was, sitting smack-ass in the middle of the 149's airstrip.

Raider had been getting bored with the enforced downtime while Sarah chewed through the avalanche of paperwork on her desk. Since there was a limit to how often she could talk the men into putting on a bite sleeve and letting the dog play "catch and release," she'd driven down to the beach and taken him for a long walk that afternoon. When the towering thunderheads began building over the ocean, they headed back.

As the jeep bumped across the airstrip on the way to the base, Sarah felt the off-balance thump of a pending flat. Slowing to a halt, she got out. Yep. The driver's side rear tire was flat and getting flatter.

She used every four-letter word she knew to voice her opinion of tires, jeeps and the Army. She threw in some opinions about the Navy, the war, General McArthur, Admiral Nimitz and that morning's truly awful breakfast. Feeling a little better, she hauled out the jack and set to work.

 **XXX**

"Rendova Tower, this is Black Sheep flight leader, approaching with two birds for an emergency landing." Jim sounded bored as he took a heading toward the island. Off his starboard wing, TJ's plane was churning oily black smoke out of the engine. Jim could hear the cylinders misfiring. TJ was starting to lose altitude as the plane struggled to stay in the air.

"Negative, negative, Black Sheep," the tower operator came back. "Be advised we have a vehicle stranded on our airstrip. Repeat, airstrip is compromised. Please divert and go into a holding pattern while we rectify the situation."

"Rendova Tower, you're about to have a bigger situation to rectify. We got a smoked bird up here that's gonna fall out of the sky in about two minutes. TJ, take 'er down and try not to hit whatever pile of junk they got sitting there. Only the Army would think it was okay to use an airstrip as a parking lot."

 **XXX**

The wind was kicking up as Sarah wrestled the jack under the rear axle and hoisted the tire off the ground. The thunderheads had moved even closer in the brief time since she and Raider had left the beach. The storm was going to hit and soon. Over the rising wind, she heard the familiar roar of approaching aircraft. Who was crazy enough to be flying in this? She looked up from wrenching stubborn lug nuts loose to see a dark, gull-winged shape dropping out of the sky amidst a smoke plume. A second plane was hot on its tail.

Two Corsairs were coming in for a landing and she was sitting right in the middle of the strip. Seriously, what the hell? The tower knew she was out here. A mechanic had seen her and gone to notify the them after she assured him she could change the tire by herself. They never would have given planes landing clearance unless it was an emergency.

Or unless they were pilots who didn't make it a habit of doing what they were told. She was pretty sure they weren't Gryphons. The 149 had flown an early morning recon mission and returned hours ago. She wondered what the odds were they were from 214.

A second look told her it really wasn't going to matter where they were from but it was going to matter a whole lot where they were going. The first plane had touched down and was barreling straight toward her. It didn't take a genius to see how this was going to end.

Calling for Raider, she abandoned the jeep and ran.

The emergency ground crew was already responding. Mechanics with fire suppression equipment roared past her in a jeep headed toward the strip.

Sarah pulled up, panting, at the edge of the flight line. Raider capered happily around her, delighted with the impromptu race. Humans didn't run nearly fast enough or long enough to suit him but the 100-yard dash had been fun while it lasted.

Sarah grabbed the dog's collar and went from catching her breath to holding it as the leading plane careened down the strip. Smoke was pouring from the cowling and she could hear a cacophony of metallic screams coming from the engine. At the last possible moment, the pilot juked the craft hard to starboard. The port wing whipped over the stranded jeep, clearing it by inches, and the bird went into a tailskid that sent up a billowing cloud of dirt. The second Corsair landed uneventfully at a safe distance.

Sarah let out her breath and grabbed the field glasses sitting atop the mechanic's tool bench. Through the dirt and smoke swirling around the first plane, she could read the name stenciled under the canopy: Lt. TJ Wiley.

"Oh for the love of God," she muttered. "Only you, TJ."

"You know them?" a mechanic said.

"Yeah." She shook her head in disbelief. "I know them. They're Black Sheep."

Whistling to Raider, she jogged back out toward the planes.

"What kind of brain-damaged Army eight-ball parks a jeep in the middle of a landing strip?" Jim growled, peeling off his gloves as he ducked under the wing. His face was twisted in a snarl of irritation. He pulled up short when he saw her.

"Hello, Captain. That's my jeep. Is there a problem?" Sarah smiled, enjoying the emotions battling on his face. It wasn't often she got a leg up on him.

Jim swallowed whatever he'd been about to say. He matched her smile.

"Hello, darlin.' "

"Hey, Sarah!" TJ called, turning toward her as he leaped down from the cockpit.

"Hey, TJ! Nice of you guys to drop in for tea. What's the occasion?"

"Wiley's got so much lead in his butt he couldn't stay in the air," Jim said. "Guess we're gonna let the mechanics here pull some of it out."

"Ya'll aren't gonna want to stand out here jawin'," a mechanic yelled. "A coast watcher just radioed. That storm – " he pointed at the thunderheads boiling in from the west, brilliant white against an indigo sky "- just pounded the hell out of the base in the Russells. It's picked up strength since then. It's a fixin' to git messy."

Up and down the flight line, maintenance crews were scrambling to secure the planes. Thunder rumbled, its deep bass a counterpoint to the rising whine of the wind.

"C'mon," Sarah said, shoving hair off her face. "Help me get this tire changed and I'll give you a lift to the base."

"Thought we could bunk in with you tonight, Red," Jim said.

"Tire first, then we'll talk about sleeping arrangements," she said, eying the sky. The thought of getting hit by lightning was only slightly more disconcerting than the thought of having Jim spend the night in her tent.

There was very little time for talking. Jim finished loosening the lug nuts and yanked off the tire. Sarah rolled him the spare, then knelt to help spin lug nuts back on. A lightning bolt connected with one of the palm trees near the strip just as he tightened the last one. The tree sizzled with blue flame as a million volts of electricity split the trunk. TJ released the jack and the jeep dropped back onto four tires with a thump. He threw the flat and all the hardware into the back as Sarah cranked the motor over. The men and Raider leaped in. Huge drops of rain pounded them as they sped through the Marine base toward the Army encampment beyond.

She pulled up in front of a nondescript tent that mirrored the ones on La Cava. The canvas sides had been rolled up to catch any tropical breezes. Vaulting out of the jeep, Sarah yelled, "Help me tie the sides down!" The storm broke loose, wind and rain pelting them as they wrestled the canvas into submission and lashed the ties to the tent's frame.

Sarah and Raider dashed inside and the boys followed her. They stood, dripping, catching their breath. She shook wet hair out of her eyes. She was soaked and Jim and TJ weren't any better.

She grabbed a towel hanging by the door. Holding it up as a shield, she looked at Raider.

"Shake."

The dog complied, sending out a cascade of water and fur. The towel caught most of it.

Jim looked around.

"You're a better housekeeper than your sister," he observed. Kate's tent on La Cava was a notorious train wreck of a newspaper field office. By comparison, Sarah's quarters were positively tidy. There were two bunks – one not in use - a desk cluttered with paperwork and the usual miscellany of gear. A blanket on the floor had been carefully arranged into a dog nest.

"Sorry," Sarah said, motioning at the spare bunk. "If you both stay here, one of you will have to sleep on the floor."

Jim grinned at her.

"Not necessarily."

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying not to smile.

"I don't think you and TJ will both fit on there but you're welcome to try."

"That's not what I meant." He was smiling broadly now. It was that damned good old boy grin that made her breath come a little quicker.

"In your dreams, Gutterman." She felt a flush rising up her body but didn't look away.

Jim chuckled.

"Your sister says that to me all the time."

"And how's that working out for you?" Sarah countered.

"It isn't and you know it. Your dog is looking at me like I'm an appetizer."

Raider was leaning against Sarah's leg, staring at Jim, ears up, eyes thoughtful.

"He thinks you're trouble."

 _And so do I._

TJ coughed awkwardly.

"Dunno about you, but I'm up for a head call," he announced. He shot a questioning look at Sarah.

"Two tents down and turn left." She pointed. "You can't miss it."

Jim followed TJ back out into the pounding rain. Actually, Sarah thought, the rain was coming down so hard they possibly could miss it. She grabbed a slicker off a peg on the tent's center pole and pulled it on. She was already wet to the skin but needed to get a few things and didn't want them getting soaked on the return trip.

"Wait here," she told Raider and darted out the door.

 **XXX**

Jim and TJ got back to the tent before Sarah.

"No way we're flying back to La Cava tonight," Jim said, swiping water off his face. "It's damn near dark now and doesn't show any sign of letting up." He switched on the single overhead bulb and a thin yellow light pushed back the gloom.

He wandered around the tent, aware of Raider's eyes following him. The dog was laying on Sarah's bunk like he owned it. Jim wasn't going to argue with him.

"She lets you sleep in her bed?" he said. Raider looked smug. "Yeah. I'm jealous."

The dog's gaze never wavered. He swore the beast was smirking.

A sketchbook on Sarah's desk caught Jim's eye. It was open to a drawing of Raider, launching at an unseen adversary. He picked it up. She had captured the dog in skilled pencil strokes, the texture of his fur was almost lifelike. So was the demented gleam in his eye. Slowly, Jim turned the pages. More sketches of Raider running, sleeping, chewing on a stick. Meatball and Kate. Kate and Greg. Palm trees. The ocean at sunset. Him.

Wait a minute. Him?

The sketch was a damned good likeness, a head and shoulders portrait with a Corsair in the background. She must have done it from memory. He didn't see any photos on her desk. He flipped through the rest of the sketches. There were several more of him. Playing poker. Looking at something that made him smile. A few more of the dogs. Some tropical flowers. No other Black Sheep. At the sound of canvas rustling at the tent's entry, he closed the sketchbook and dropped it back on her desk.

 **XXX**

The boys had beaten her back to the tent. TJ was sitting on the spare bunk, Jim was straddling her desk chair, arms resting on the back. Raider was perched atop her cot, watching both of them.

"Get off there, you wet thing," she said, slapping the dog on the rump. He jumped down, never taking his eyes off the men. "Here." She pulled a lump of rolled cloth out from under her slicker. "I borrowed some towels and dry shirts for you. It's not much but it's better than sitting around wearing wet flight suits." Or the obvious alternative, which was sitting around _not_ wearing wet flight suits, she thought.

She dropped a disintegrating paper bag on her desk. "Stopped at the mess and made sandwiches. Cookie says he's not firing up the grill in this weather and you can have whatever you want for supper, as long as you make it yourself. Hope you like cold Spam."

She shook out the shirts, which were bundled inside the towels, and tossed them to each of the boys. The three of them stood, looking awkwardly at each other. Jim motioned at her.

"Ladies first, go ahead and change, Red."

"Guests first," she countered. "Sorry there's no privacy screen."

"Not a problem, darlin."

By the time Sarah realized both boys had no hesitation about stripping down in front of her, they'd kicked off their boots and were pulling off flight suits. She spun around, turning her back to them.

"Did we offend your delicate sensibilities?" Jim was laughing. She could hear fabric rustle as he peeled himself out of his wet clothes.

"I don't have any delicate sensibilities anymore," she said. After nearly two months on the base, she was used to seeing men walking around in various states of undress. She was _not_ used to seeing that undress taking place in her own tent.

"Thanks, Sarah," TJ said, wiping down with the towel and pulling a T-shirt over his head. "Tell whoever you borrowed the clothes from we appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she returned, keeping her face averted. "You can hang your flight suits on the line." She waved at a clothesline strung across the back of the tent. "I don't know how dry they'll get by morning but it's better than nothing. Are you decent yet?"

The reply was affirmative. She turned around. It was also a lie. Jim was still toweling off, standing with apparent ease in nothing but his skivvies. He had a lean, spare build that drew her eye and she took just a minute to admire it, her mind flashing back to their afternoon on the beach. He grinned at her. _Damnit. Was her mind that easy to read?_ She picked up the shirt laying on the spare bunk and threw it at him.

He caught it and pulled it on. "Your turn, darlin'. You'll catch cold if you sit there in wet clothes."

"Turn around," she said firmly, grabbing a T-shirt out of her trunk and unzipping her pants. TJ turned around.

" _Both_ of you."

Jim chuckled but turned his back. Sarah pulled off her wet pants and shirt. Her bra was even soaked. She unhooked it and shimmied out, hastily drying off before pulling the shirt over her head. Then she grabbed a pair of cut-off fatigues and pulled them on, too. The boys might be comfortable sitting around in their underthings but she wasn't. They didn't have a choice. She did.

The rain continued to pound, driven by wind that howled and yanked at the canvas. Lightning sent flashes of silver blazing through cracks in the tent flaps. Somewhere on the base, a crack of lightning was followed by a resounding crash as another tree toppled. The overhead light flickered and went out, plunging the tent into a murky twilight.

"There went the generator," Sarah said.

"Now what?" TJ asked.

"Do I look like an electrical engineer?" she muttered. She lifted a kerosene lamp from a wooden crate. Pulling matches from a waterproof box, she lit it. The flame burned high, then settled to a blue glow as she trimmed the wick. The soft light created a fragile sense of security. They ate in silence, listening to the storm. Raider kept a close eye out for crumbs. Sarah shared the last bite of her sandwich with him before filling his bowl with chow.

"I'm still hungry," TJ said, peering outside. "I'm going back to the mess. You guys want anything else?"

"No, thanks. Take my slicker." Sarah motioned to the peg where it hung. "It's too big for me, it should fit you fine."

TJ shoved his feet back in his boots, pulled on the slicker and vanished, bare-legged, into the rain. Jim stretched out on the empty bunk. Sarah shook her head.

"Do you guys always run around half-naked in the rain?" she asked.

"Do you always let half-naked men sleep in your tent?"

"Only if they promise to behave," she said. She had her doubts about that but it was a little late to worry about it now.

She dropped onto the floor next to her cot and whistled for Raider to fill the awkward silence. The dog sprawled next to her and laid his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his fur and the shepherd rolled onto his back with his feet in the air to have his belly rubbed.

"Are there any more of you?" Jim asked.

She blinked, confused.

"Any more of me what?"

"Do you have any more brothers and sisters? It's just you and Katie, right?"

"Yeah, it's just the two of us." She realized she knew nothing about his family, except that his parents had split up. "What about you?"

"One brother, one sister. Both younger."

"What are their names?" The wind snapped the tent's sidewall behind Jim. He moved off the bunk to sit on the floor on the other side of Raider. The dog rolled onto his side and draped a paw possessively over Sarah's leg.

"Would you stop that," she muttered, shoving him off. "I am not your property." The dog grumbled but acquiesced.

"John, he'd be 17 now, and Elaine. She's 16."

"How long has it been since you saw them?"

Jim dropped a hand to Raider's shoulder, ruffling the fur.

"Not since I left for the Corps in the fall of '41. Two years now. I finished basic at Paris Island in early December and they were trying to decide what to do with me. I was good at math and mechanical things, figured maybe I'd get assigned to an engineering battalion but then Pearl got hit and next thing I know, I'm in flight school."

"Where do they live now?"

"Fort Worth. Ma's a cook at a café near the stockyards. What about your folks?"

Sarah shook her head.

"They're both gone. Daddy died in '40, then Mama right after him. Kate was in college, but she was old enough to be my legal guardian. We sold the farm, paid their debts and there wasn't much left. I graduated from high school and Douglas Aircraft was recruiting workers, so I went to California. Kate quit school and worked at a newspaper in San Francisco for a while, then she went to Europe with the Associated Press. I joined the Army after she came out here." Sarah shrugged. "And here we are."

"D'you have somewhere to go back to when this is all over?" Jim asked. He waved a hand that encompassed the war in general.

"No. Not really. We have relatives back in North Dakota but no place that's home anymore. The farm was sold, somebody else lives there now." She leaned her head back against her bunk. "I think that's part of why I joined the Army. I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere. But you do, you've got family to go back to."

"Yeah. But what with one thing and another, Ma was pretty fed up with me by the time I left for the Corps."

"I imagine she was justified."

Jim gave her a vexed look.

"You're supposed to feel sorry for me," he said. "And be sympathetic. And offer comfort. That's what women do."

"Sorry." She was grinning. "You really don't look like you need comforting all that much."

Jim continued riffling through Raider's fur.

"What's this? Here?" He pushed the fur back to show a hairless pink weal running for six inches along the dog's mid-section.

"Scar tissue. Old wound," she said.

"What happened?"

"A Japanese soldier knifed him on one of our first missions. He shouldn't have brought a knife to a dog fight," she said. Her tone was light but her eyes were serious. "It took 12 stitches to close it. It took a lot more than that to put the guy's arm back together. Since then, Raid's gotten a little more creative on where he bites to immobilize someone."

"Really?"

"Give me your arm." She shifted, dislodging Raider from her lap. He grumbled but adjusted to keep his head firmly on her leg. She took Jim's right arm. "When you see him coming at you, you're going to throw your arm up in defense. He can probably take you down with a bite anywhere but he's been trained to hit the upper body. He used to hit forearm or bicep." She closed her fingers around his forearm.

"But after he got knifed, he figured out if he hit from behind – " she shifted again and closed her fingers over Jim's tricep – "the guy couldn't get to him, or at least not as easy. I didn't teach him that. He just figured it out."

Annoyed that his pillow kept moving, Raider stalked off and curled up on his blanket. Sarah leaned back against her bunk, stretching her legs in front of her, and watched the shadows dancing on the rippling canvas. The storm was still howling with a fury. TJ must have decided to ride it out in the mess tent.

Jim shifted closer, stretched out his own legs and traced her knee with an index finger. She startled at both his touch and the heat of his skin against hers but didn't pull away.

"You have incredible legs." He flattened his palm against her thigh. Her heart rate accelerated.

"It's a family trait. Kate does, too." She thought her breath was coming a little faster than necessary for someone who was just sitting still.

"I hadn't noticed." That good old boy smile was back, making him look better than he had a right to.

"Liar." She was struggling for words. "I know for a fact you've spent a lot of time watching my sister's legs."

He shrugged.

"Me and every other guy in the squadron. I think yours are nicer." His eyes were fast on hers, his voice soft.

Suddenly needing to put space between them, Sarah shifted sideways. Jim moved with her, never taking his hand off her thigh. She was pressed into the corner of her cot and her trunk now, with no room to move. He stretched his other arm behind her, resting it on her bunk. His fingers grazed her shoulder.

"Going somewhere, Red?"

"No." Her voice was a whisper.

"I didn't get a chance to kiss you good-bye before you left La Cava." His face was close enough now she could see the flecks of hazel in the dark brown irises of his eyes. "You owe me one."

His mouth closed over hers. The intensity of the kiss set off a chain reaction that seared straight to her core. She started to pull back but he didn't give her a break. Sliding a hand into her hair, he kissed her again, his mouth relentless. She didn't resist this time. Blood pounded to her head in a dizzying rush that left her breathless.

"Jim . . . wait," she whispered. Her palms were flat against his chest, whether to push him away or pull him closer, she hadn't decided. She'd made out with a few boys before but it had never felt like this, never had her teetering on the brink of abandoning anything resembling caution.

"Do we still not know each other well enough yet?" His voice was an open invitation.

She didn't answer. There was something about him that made her feel not entirely in control. A few more kisses like that and they'd be getting to know each other a whole lot better.

 _So what was wrong with that?_

"I have to know something," she said, managing to put a little space between them. She thought she already knew the answer. But Jim was based on a separate island. She really didn't know what went on there when she wasn't around and she'd only been there for a couple of days, really, over several months. She needed to hear it from him.

"What?" He cupped her chin, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He leaned forward and kissed her ear. And below her ear. And below that.

"Are you . . . is there . . ." her voice trailed off as her eyes closed. His mouth on her neck was ruining her for sensible thought. She wrenched her mind back. She had to know. "Do you have a girl on La Cava?"

He pulled back, looking surprised and slightly wary.

"No, darlin'. Not for a long time."

"Like how long?" A long time for some boys could be a matter of hours. No way was she letting this go any further if he'd gotten out of another girl's bed this morning and thought he'd get into hers tonight.

"Since before you were at La Cava last. A month. Maybe more."

She considered that.

"What? You don't believe me?" His thumb brushed across her lower lip. She pressed her face against his hand, her body responding to his without conscious thought. _Great. When had that started?_

She believed him. She twisted a handful of his shirt. "Let me make this clear - I will _not_ be a matter of convenience just because you happen to be stuck here with nothing better to do."

"There's nothing convenient about you." There was a note of honest emotion in his voice she'd never heard before and it sent her belly tumbling again. His hands weren't helping any, either.

"So what was her name? The last girl . . . who was your girl?" She was about one touch away from abandoning this whole conversation.

"You are thorough." He chuckled. "Are you sure you're not with the press corps? She wasn't really my girl. She was more a matter of convenience."

"And I'm not?"

His fingers traced the line of her jaw, down to her throat, then along the angle of her collarbone.

"Darlin', you're the most inconvenient girl I know. You're stationed on a different base. I only see you by accident. Your dog would like to eat me for lunch." He glanced toward Raider, who was curled up but watching them intently. He pushed hair off her cheek, sifting copper and auburn strands through his fingers. "And you are _nothing_ like her."

"What was her name?" Sarah wasn't sure why, but she wanted to hear him say it. If she stopped talking she was going to loose the tenuous grip she had on what was left of her self-control. His fingers were leaving a trail of flame wherever he touched her.

"Jeannie McDowell. She's a nurse at the hospital." His voice did not hold any lingering affection.

"She's still there?"

"Yes."

"Why'd she stop being convenient?"

"I wasn't the only one she was convenient for."

"Oh." That stopped her.

Jim pulled her back into his arms.

"Your sister said I should charge interest on that good-bye kiss I never got. You owe me."

Raider gave a snort and put his head on his paws. She seemed okay with this but he kept his eyes open, just in case she changed her mind. Human behavior was confusing.

Jim's mouth brushed down her neck and she whimpered as his teeth grazed the skin of her throat. One hand circled her waist, fingers hard against the fabric of her shirt. The other tangled in her hair, tipped her head back and kissed her again, roughly. She returned it in kind, taking his tongue with hers. He smelled like engine exhaust and rain and she couldn't get enough.

His hand slid under her shirt, stroking her back. She trembled at the unexpected warmth of his fingers against her bare skin, then arched against them as he traced her spine, sliding from the hollow above her hips to the nape of her neck and back again. His hand was deliberately slow, teasing without demanding.

Sarah was unprepared for the rush of arousal that pounded through her. Her body was going places her mind hadn't given it permission to go. She braced a hand on his thigh, felt his muscles tighten in response to her touch. That only made it worse. Deep in the recess of her mind, she felt something snap as the last remaining shred of her self-control let go.

Jim's hand eased around her rib cage, giving her every chance in the world to say no, to tell him to stop. She held his eyes, inches away, an open invitation of her own. She'd wanted him to touch her like this since that afternoon on the beach when she'd been hesitant to encourage it. Her smile in the lantern light reflected his, acknowledging pleasure given and received.

He cupped the fullness of her breast, thumb circling her nipple, and she gasped, sensation rocking through her in hard waves. She'd never figured him for such a smooth touch but his hands were incredible - slow and hot and mesmerizing. She was breathless, her fingers linked behind his neck. His eyes were dark with emotion as he leaned forward and kissed her. She took his tongue, slow and deep, wanting more of what his body promised. As if reading her mind, he pressed her gently down onto the floor, lowering himself next to her.

Her mouth was still hungry on his as his fingers worked under her shirt again. She let her hand trace the contour of his back to caress his hip. Slowly, she stroked the lean curve of muscle, hot through the thin fabric of his shorts. He jerked at her unexpected touch.

"Damn, Red," he choked.

"You really do have a nice ass." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Jim's reply was lost as the tent flap flew open and TJ burst in on a gust of wind-driven rain.

"What a storm!" He pulled the flap shut behind him. "You should see all the - ." He blinked. "Oh. Shit. Sorry. God, I'm sorry! I'll just - " He started back out the door. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, glazing the tent in silver. TJ stopped, clearly unable to decide which was the lesser of two evils.

Jim rolled to the side, tugging Sarah's shirt back down. She didn't make any effort to get up. She wasn't sure her body would support her if she tried. She made an effort to control her breathing.

 _Oh, hell. Two could play this game._

Tipping her head, she held Jim's eyes.

"Was that enough interest?" she whispered. "Or do I owe you more?"

His face registered surprise, then he winked at her.

"That was just the beginning, darlin'." He untangled his legs from hers and they both rolled, awkwardly, to a sit.

TJ looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Looking at his wingman, Jim said with remarkable calm, "Stay here, TJ. Greg'll kill me if you go out there and get electrocuted." He sighed. "I'll flip you for the bunk."

 **XXX**

The storm blew itself out during the night. A watery sunrise revealed a lot of mud and shattered palm trees. The engineers had the generators humming as cleanup began. There'd been some minor storm damage to the 149's planes but TJ's and Jim's birds were no worse than they'd been when they landed. The mechanics deemed TJ's air-worthy by mid-morning and Sarah drove the boys out to the airstrip.

Jim pinned her against the wing of his plane and kissed her hard while TJ pretended not to notice. It was a completely inappropriate thing to do in that place, at that time of the morning, she thought. She wrapped her arms around Jim's neck and returned the embrace with as much heat as it was given, locking away the feeling in her heart. Who knew when they'd see each other again. There was a spattering of applause from the ground crew. Sarah flipped them off without breaking the embrace.

"See ya later, Sergeant."

"See ya later, Captain."

And then he was gone.

She shielded her eyes with a hand and scratched Raider idly with the other as she watched the two Corsairs lift into the sky and head north toward La Cava.

What was she thinking, getting involved with a pilot?

What was she thinking, getting involved with _that_ pilot?

 **XXX**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

"So you slept with Sarah last night." It was a statement, not a question, and Jim could hear the teasing undercurrent in Greg's voice. "How'd that go?"

"I slept in Sarah's tent," Jim corrected. "There's a difference." He'd won the coin toss and got the cot but sleep hadn't come easy. Now, he swirled the whisky in the tumbler. It was still raining. He and TJ had flown back during what was apparently the day's only dry window. He was in Greg's tent, allegedly to discuss the next day's mission.

Greg leaned back in his chair and chuckled.

"You don't look any worse for the wear so I guess you behaved yourself."

"Let's just say she didn't hit me." Jim was unaccustomed to feeling self-conscious when it came to talking about his exploits with women. The morning after any of the boys made time with the nurses was usually a no-holds-barred session of reliving the event for everyone's enjoyment and he'd been regarded as one of the unit's premiere storytellers. "We'll leave it at that."

She hadn't hit him. She sure as hell hadn't told him no this time. If TJ hadn't come back when he did . . . the memory of her hand on his hip, pulling him against her . . . He took a healthy swallow of Scotch.

Greg raised his eyebrows.

"Be careful, Jim," he said. "If this goes south, you're on your own. I can't save your butt if Kate goes after you for breaking her little sister's heart."

Jim topped off his whisky and stared out at the rain.

"I ain't had a lot of things in my life that were worth keeping," he said slowly. "Sarah's probably the best thing's ever happened to me, besides landing with this outfit. I'd like it to stay that way. She's . . . different . . ."

"Different?"

"She ain't like the others. There's more to her than just . . . you know." His voice trailed off. He turned and looked at Greg. Kate was damned near 15 years younger than his CO and a member of the press corps, which Greg avowed to hate, but after they'd gotten done annoying each other as a matter of principle, the two of them had snapped together like a magnet and steel. Jim had never seen a relationship like theirs.

They seemed so . . . connected . . . even when they were doing the most ordinary things. He'd never given much thought to girls beyond satisfying a physical need. There'd never been a reason to. Girls came and went. That's just how it was. Now he found himself thinking about Sarah in ways that went beyond what men and women did in the dark, although he gave that a lot of thought, too.

"There's something I gotta know," he asked. "Do you and Kate ever just . . . talk?"

"All the time." Greg laughed. "Well, not _all_ the time. But yeah. We talk a lot."

"About what?" Jim blurted. The subject baffled him. The conversation Sarah had forced out of him last night had damned near killed him. What the hell did you talk to a girl about, if it wasn't with the intent of getting her panties off? And after that, there wasn't much need for talking.

"Whatever's on her mind," Greg said. "Look, Sarah's as up to her eyeballs in this war as you and I are. I'm guessing she has a lot of things on her mind. Best thing I can tell you is respect her. If you don't, you'll pay for it. And Jim? Keep a sense of humor. She's a Cameron. You're going to need it."

"Yeah." Jim tossed back the contents of his glass. A sense of humor was probably just the beginning.

[Type here]


	6. Chapter 6

**Ch. 6: Gentlemen don't bet and tell**

 **Three weeks later**

Sarah had spent so much time on Choiseul she'd considered having her mail forwarded there. It had taken multiple missions over the better part of a month but she, Raider, three other K9 teams and several dozen members from various infantry units had finally finished a sweep of the northern part of the island. Their combined efforts had neutralized a small but deeply embedded Japanese presence there.

She was euphoric at the dogs' success rate. She was also filthy and exhausted. All she wanted to see was a shower and her bunk on Rendova for about 12 hours. Late in the afternoon when she finally climbed onto the transport that would take her back to the 137, she found herself sharing cramped quarters with half a dozen soldiers from an Army unit headed to Espritos for leave.

The men were in high spirits and more than willing to pursue a good time with the first girl they encountered. Raider's presence made them think twice. That, and the fact Sarah was carrying her rifle and still dressed in full field kit. And hadn't showered in three days. The men spent the flight making comments to one another that they obviously intended her to hear. She'd tipped her cap over her face and slept, one hand resting on Raider. Raider slept with one eye open.

When the plane blew an engine off the coast of Vella La Cava, Sarah was jolted awake with a sense of disorientation that left her grabbing for her dog and her gun, in that order. She hung on to Raider's collar as the transport limped down onto the La Cava airstrip in an emergency landing that left them all shaken up but in one piece. After a cursory inspection by Hutch and Micklin, the verdict was yes, they could make the needed repairs, but no, they couldn't do it before morning. The 214's planes took first priority and the Black Sheep had come back slightly worse for the wear from that day's mission.

The soldiers, seeing their leave cut short, felt their need for alcohol was justified by circumstances and headed straight for the Sheep Pen. Sarah headed for Kate's tent. She found her sister sitting barefoot at her desk, a pencil clamped between her teeth, pounding furiously on her Royal typewriter.

"Hey, Katie!"

"What a surprise!" Kate said when Sarah and Raider stepped into the tent. Then she wrinkled her nose. "God, Sair, you look a little rough."

"I feel a little rough." Sarah slung her rifle off her shoulder and dropped her gear bag onto the floor. In answer to Kate's questioning look, she said, "Plane troubles on the way home from Choiseul. Can I bunk with you tonight?"

"Sure." Kate glanced at her tent's spare cot. It was covered with an array of stateside newspapers, an empty Scotch bottle and a crate stenciled "Grenades." Sarah truly hoped that was not what it contained. There was no telling around this place.

"Give me a minute, I'll clean that off for you," Kate said.

"No rush. Do you have some clean clothes I can borrow? And soap? And a towel? And a shower?"

Kate gave Raider a scratch on the head and started pulling miscellaneous items out of a trunk. She handed Sarah a Marine Corps issue gray T-shirt, a pair of trousers that had been hacked off into shorts and some undergarments that had seen better days. In spite of Sarah being a few inches taller than Kate, the two girls wore virtually the same size clothes. Kate lifted a shower bucket off a wooden crate, dropped a towel on top of it and handed it over.

"There you go. Five-star service." Kate paused. "You'll have to use the boys' showers, though, unless you want to find a jeep and drive to the hospital."

Sarah shook her head. All she wanted to do was wash off the layer of filth the jungle had applied over the last 72 hours, then find some chow and call it a day. At this point, she didn't care if someone just poured water out of a bucket over her head while she stood there.

"Do me one more favor?" she asked. "Watch Raider until I get back?"

"Sure."

After bidding the dog to wait, Sarah walked through the quiet base. It was late enough that the outdoor showers were deserted and cloaked in shadows. The sun was nearly down and judging from the light and laughter coming from the Sheep Pen, that's where everyone was gathered.

The water in the holding tank wasn't cold but it wasn't hot either. She didn't care. By the time she had soaped, shampooed, rinsed and repeated, she felt human again. Scrubbed clean and still a little damp, she walked back through the gathering dusk. A plate with sandwiches and a thermos of coffee was waiting on the edge of Kate's desk.

"You are a goddess," Sarah said.

"That's what I've been told." Kate's smile was angelic. Sarah snorted.

"Who ever told you that?" She rummaged in her pack and found a bowl and kibble for Raider. The dog bolted the food and fixed his gaze on Sarah's plate.

"Same guy who brought you supper. Greg stopped by to see what I was doing. I told him you were on that transport and looked like something the cat dragged in. He brought you a plate from the mess."

"Tell him thanks," Sarah said appreciatively. She had one sandwich gone and was halfway through the second. The coffee was working its restorative miracle. She tossed the last bite of meat and bread to Raider, who caught it neatly and swallowed without chewing.

"C'mon, let's go have a drink and you can tell him yourself. The boys will be disappointed if you don't say hi." She grinned. "Especially one of them." Fixing her sister with a speculative gaze, she continued, "Someday, Sarah, I want to know what happened that night Jim and TJ stayed with you on Rendova. Jim won't talk about it, even though the boys won't give him any peace. TJ knows more than he lets on, but he changes the subject any time I'm around."

Sarah's mind spun. In the simple pleasure of being clean and fed, she'd entirely forgotten where she was. It was a hazard of so much travel.

Jim was here.

Those stolen moments during the storm came back to her with a hot jolt of memory. She didn't regret any of it and if TJ hadn't walked in, well, her mind often drifted over what might have happened, but at the same time, what the hell was she thinking? She and Jim were based on different islands, separated by a whole lot of enemy-infested airspace, in the middle of a war. It wasn't like they could count on steady Saturday night dates to get to know each other. It had been three weeks since she'd seen him. She wasn't sure where this was headed.

Who was she kidding? She'd spent plenty of sleepless nights thinking about where this was headed. She snapped back to the present, aware Kate was studying her.

Slowly, Sarah asked, "What did Jim tell the guys about that night?"

"Nothing much," Kate mused. "Just that he and TJ rode out the storm with you." Her eyes sparkled. "Did something happen? What happened? You can tell me."

"Nothing happened," Sarah said brightly. "Let's go."

Kate's skepticism was clear but she didn't push it as she put her boots on.

 _Jim hadn't told the Black Sheep about the night on Rendova? Seriously?_

Sarah had dreaded facing the squadron again because Kate had told her they tended to kiss and tell. A lot. Only maybe Jim hadn't, for once. But TJ had walked right into the middle of it and she doubted he had any such reservations. She knew men well enough to know that second-hand stories were better than no stories at all.

 **XXX**

"Sarah! Nice of you to drop in!" TJ winked at her as she and Kate walked into the Sheep Pen. He cast a sideways glance at the calendar on the wall. "You picked a great week to visit."

The building was crowded. The Black Sheep were throwing darts, playing poker and doing quality control on the bar inventory. A handful of nurses from the hospital had joined them. Sarah recognized a few of them from her previous visits. The Army soldiers who'd been on the transport with Sarah occupied a corner table already littered with beer cans and a fifth of Scotch. They appeared to have gotten a headstart on their R and R.

"What did he mean, this is a great week to visit?" Sarah asked as she and Kate moved toward the bar.

"Hey, Jim!" TJ yelled over the general din toward Jim, who was playing poker with Greg, both Bobbies and Don. "This is the week I picked in the bet so anything I can do to help out, just let me know. You need me to sleep somewhere else tonight, just say the word!"

Kate grimaced.

"What bet? What's he talking about?" Sarah looked suspicious. "Why would TJ need to sleep somewhere else?"

"It's kind of a long story," Kate said. She looked guilty. "I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner."

"Told me what?"

"Ladies," Greg acknowledged them, interrupting Kate's reply. "Heard about the engine trouble, Sarah. Glad you set down safely."

"Me, too," she said. "I'm not nearly as comfortable with jumping out of airplanes as you guys are. I don't think Raider would care much for it, either. Thanks for supper, by the way."

"You shouldn't have to face this bunch on a empty stomach. Where is your dog?" Greg looked around.

"He's in Kate's tent. He's tired enough I trust him to stay there without chewing his way out. He's not really into the crowd scene anyway."

"Hey, Red." Jim's voice was as warm as a touch. "I knew you'd come back to see me." He folded his poker hand and tossed the cards on the table.

"Hey," she said. Seeing him again made something turn over low in her belly. She'd missed him. She'd actually missed him. His smart mouth. That no good smile. And everything that went with it.

Standing up, he wrapped an arm around her waist and snugged her close. She stepped into the embrace, welcoming the familiarity of his hand and the solid feel of his body against hers. She was aware of looks passing between the Black Sheep.

What's that all about, she wondered. It wasn't like the rest of the boys didn't know they were . . _. involved._ That was totally _not_ the right word but she couldn't think of a better one. _Going steady_ fell far short. They certainly were _not_ sleeping together. Maybe involved _was_ the right word. All she knew for sure was that every time she saw him, more of her clothes came off and more of her inhibitions went with them. There was more to it than his ability to reduce her to glowing embers with a kiss. She really liked his company even when he wasn't turning her into a hot mess. She sighed inwardly. It was complicated.

Even if Kate hadn't heard any details about Jim and TJ's emergency layover on Rendova, Sarah was sure TJ hadn't wasted any time telling tales out of school when they got back. This base lived and breathed gossip about girls and the juicier it was, the better. Maybe the boys had managed to keep their mouths shut around Kate, figuring she didn't want to hear about her little sister's nocturnal activities. Sarah would prefer it stayed that way, too. She really didn't need Kate passing judgement on what she did or didn't do after the sun went down. Or who she did it with. Although Kate had shared a few intimate details about her and Greg's romance, Sarah wasn't sure she was ready to reciprocate. Besides, she didn't really have that many details to share.

Jim took in her still-damp hair and borrowed clothes.

"Your wardrobe is starting to look like your sister's," he said. "Not that I'm complaining. Those shorts look fine on you."

She remembered his comment about her legs and where that had led. She hoped the heat didn't show in her face.

"This wardrobe _is_ my sister's." She wasn't sure what to say. It was beyond frustrating, trying to have a relationship that was either racing full speed ahead or at a dead standstill, with no apparent safe middle ground.

"Come back to settle the bet for us?" Don asked. He glanced at the calendar as he shuffled the cards. "Damn. I got a lot of money on this. Sarah, are you sure you don't want to leave and come back next week? That's the one I picked."

"What are you talking about?" Sarah was baffled. She'd been around the Black Sheep enough to know they would bet on anything from who would get a kill on the next mission to how long it would take to get lucky with a particular nurse. Anything was fair game.

Anything.

Realization dawned. She looked at Kate.

"Sorry," Kate mouthed.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at Jim. He was trying to look innocent. It wasn't working.

"Does this bet have anything to do with me?"

"I didn't make any bet." Jim clenched his jaw. Behind him, Anderson and French guffawed.

"Maybe you didn't but nobody heard you saying it wasn't gonna happen, Gutterman," Don said.

"Yeah, James, we all know it's just a matter of time," Anderson added.

"What. Bet." It was a demand now, not a question. She pulled out of Jim's arms and faced him, bristling.

"I don't know what they're talking about, darlin'."

Sarah jabbed him in the chest with a forefinger.

"Don't you _darlin'_ me, Jim Gutterman!" Her eyes snapped. In spite of the shower, clean clothes and food, she was in no mood to be trifled with. "Kate told me about the bet you boys had when she first came here, about whose bed she was going to land in. Now it sounds like you've transferred that to me. Is that right?"

"No! That's not how it is at all!" Jim looked genuinely uncomfortable but Sarah didn't let up. She put her palms on his chest and shoved him backward across the room.

"Really?" She bit off the words. "Then maybe you should tell me how it is."

"Yeah, Tex, maybe you should tell her how it is. We'd like to hear, too." One of the Army boys had sauntered over to join the crowd of Black Sheep who were watching the confrontation with interest.

"Stay out of this. It ain't none of your business," Jim warned.

"It don't look like she's gonna be none of your business, either." The soldier had blonde hair and blue eyes and carried himself with a swagger. He sized up Sarah. "Maybe you'd rather come around with me, honey."

"Yeah, Paul, you tell 'im," another of the Army guys called. "If she don't want any Marine action, we can fix her up all right."

Sarah ignored them. She took a step closer to Jim, who was backed up against the bar and couldn't go anywhere.

"Don't make me beat it out of you."

He started to smile, then hastily sobered when he saw she meant it.

"Sarah, this isn't a conversation we need to have here."

"We think it is!" Paul hollered.

"Oh shut up!" Sarah snapped. Paul blinked, surprised.

Jim pulled himself up to his full six feet and took her by the shoulders. He stepped into her. Sarah took an uncertain step back. It was either that or get knocked over. He walked her backward until he had her pinned firmly in the corner, as far away from the crowd as it was possible to get. Keeping his voice low, he said, "They're betting on _when_ , not _who_."

"When _what_?" Now she was confused as well as annoyed. She never should have let Kate talk her into coming up here for a drink. She should have just crawled into her bunk and gone to sleep.

Jim's face combined all the different ways a man could look at a woman. It was a look that spelled trouble.

"When we'll sleep together."

She froze, the words sinking in.

" _When_? Not _if_? Do you think I'm that much of a sure thing?"

She whipped her hand back, intending to slap him, more out of frustration than anger. Yeah, she probably _was_ a sure thing but he didn't need to bet on it. He had excellent reflexes and caught her wrist easily before she connected. Not to be put off, she swung with her left hand. It was an awkward effort and yielded the same result. She struggled to get loose but Jim's grip was like steel.

Paul laughed and his buddies joined in.

"Feisty little thing. Don't look like she wants anything to do with you though."

"Shut up!" Sarah and Jim snarled in unison.

Turning to her, he said, "No, I don't think you're a sure thing." He let go of her wrists. "I think you're – "

What he thought was lost when a hand closed on Sarah's elbow and pulled her roughly around.

"Come on, honey, forget about him. Why don't you and I –" Paul drug her toward him.

Sarah yanked her arm free and smacked him without hesitation. Men were a complete pain in the ass.

Paul snarled an expletive and lurched after her. She stepped back, ran up against a table and stumbled. Casey caught her and set her back on her feet just as Jim threw a hard right that sent Paul spinning. He crashed into the assembled Black Sheep and two of his buddies leaped at Jim. The Sheep Pen erupted into chaos.

There were more Marines than there were Army soldiers. Sarah could see the outcome was predetermined, but to the Army boys' credit, they didn't give up. Jim was in the thick of it and the rest of the squadron dove in to back him up. Sarah had seen some spectacular brawls at the Gryphon's Nest but she'd never met boys who fought as well as a unit on the ground as they did in the air like the Black Sheep. She suspected this was a skill honed by more practice than any of them would care to admit.

A roundhouse from an unidentified Black Sheep sent the unfortunate Paul reeling toward Sarah. Still smashed up against the table with nowhere to go, she lashed out with her foot, catching him below the kneecap. He howled with pain and toppled over. She spun and threw an elbow that connected with another soldier's nose. He jerked back, then charged forward with a roar.

Kate blocked him with a chair and sent him ricocheting into Greg's fist. Sarah was edging along the wall, trying to stay out of the combatants' way, when a hand came out of nowhere and grasped her shoulder. She reached up and grabbed the offender's arm with both hands, then stepped back and used his momentum to launch him forward. The man went airborne and crashed into a table. The only problem was, he didn't let go of her shirt. She heard fabric rip and felt cool air on bare skin as Kate's T-shirt parted company with her body.

The fight was over as quickly as it began. The last of the Army boys staggered out the door, dragging two of their semi-conscious buddies with them.

Sarah looked down. The entire left side of her shirt was hanging below her elbow. She wrapped an arm across her chest, realizing, somewhat belatedly, her sister's undergarments left a lot to be desired. The lace covered the important parts. Barely.

The men pointedly looked elsewhere. Jim unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to her. She caught it one-handed and after shrugging out of the ruined T-shirt, hastily pulled it on.

"You're very gallant, Captain," she said, buttoning it without looking at what she was doing. She inhaled, smelling soap and the scent of warm, clean male.

"You're welcome, Sergeant," Jim said with equal formality. He wiped at blood dripping from his lip. "Now, can we go somewhere and finish our conversation?"

He offered her his arm. She took it, eyes narrowed and giving no quarter.

Greg watched as they left the Sheep Pen. If Jim could talk his way through this, he might just make a go of this relationship, he thought. He looked at Kate who was helping TJ up off the floor. Stranger things had happened.

 **XXX**

Jim winced and shifted on the edge of his bunk. Sarah poured hydrogen peroxide from a bottle onto a cloth and dabbed it against the cut on his lower lip. Her hands were gentler than the expression on her face, which was saying quite a bit. In her haste, he noticed she'd mis-buttoned his shirt, causing it to gap in interesting places. The full curve of her breast under that ragged lace sent his mind straying in directions it didn't need to go right now.

"Sit still," she snapped, putting a hand on his bare shoulder and shoving him back down. "I'm not done." She reached for the peroxide bottle.

He considered trying to stand up, just to feel the touch of her hand on his skin again but thought better of it. Damn. Some women were cute when they were angry but she'd passed that point a long time ago. The inner fire that still simmered under the surface illuminated the fine bones of her face and that lovely clear skin was flushed with pique. Her eyes were a hard jade that didn't tempt argument. Cute? No. Flaming gorgeous? Absolutely. More than a little dangerous? Oh yeah.

Amidst the mayhem of that brawl, he'd seen her throw an elbow and flip that guy over her shoulder without a second's hesitation. Celtic warrior goddess. Yeah. Anderson might have been onto something with that one. He remembered Greg's warning to keep a sense of humor when it came to their relationship. A sword a shield might be more appropriate. God help him, he'd pissed her off without ever intending to. That damn bet hadn't been his idea.

Sarah put a hand under his chin and tipped his face toward the light. He thought she was a bit rougher than necessary but under the circumstances he wasn't going to complain.

"Your lip is split but your nose has quit bleeding. Or maybe it was all from your lip in the first place." She muttered something that sounded remarkably like, "Serves you right." Then she added, more clearly, "So what week did _you_ pick in this bet? Because I'm sure I have other plans then."

He reached up and took her wrist. She stiffened. Her gaze was cool and he read suspicion and a little hurt in those green-gray eyes. He realized with a sudden jolt of clarity that as much as he wanted her, he wanted more to see trust in those eyes again.

"I didn't."

She slowly put the cloth down.

"What do you mean? You didn't what?"

"I mean I didn't bet that we'd sleep together. I'm not betting on something like that." His voice was a little rougher than he intended. "It was Boyle's idea. Go pound on him if you want. I tried to talk the rest of them out of it, told them it wasn't any of their damn business, but you know how they get."

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I know they get."

Her hand was on his jaw, cool fingers tracing the first bloom of a bruise. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you bet?" She shook her head. "You bet on everything. It's like a hobby. I've spent enough time here to know that."

He hadn't let go of her wrist but she wasn't pulling away from him any more. He tugged her a little closer and she took a reluctant step toward him.

"You are the damnedest woman I've ever met. If your dog doesn't eat me first, I'm really starting to like you. The last thing I want to do is make you mad."

She stared, emotions chasing across her face like shadows, and for a minute he thought she was going to try hitting him again.

"You _like_ me?" She was fighting it but her mouth was turning up at the edges.

"Yeah. A little." He grinned at her, even though it hurt. He let go of her wrist. He'd take a chance on her swinging at him again. "Sarah . . . " God, this was awkward. "I want to sleep with you, I think you know that, but I'm not turning it . . . us . . . into a bet for their entertainment."

She didn't say anything. He watched the storm tumbling in her eyes, their power pulling him under. He wanted her, all right. He wanted her body and her heart and not necessarily in that order. The thought was almost physical in its impact. No girl had ever done _that_ to him before.

Trying to get the conversation back on safe ground, he pointed at his lip. "Are you going to do something about this?"

"What exactly would you like me to do?" Her tone was still severe but her eyes had softened.

"Whatever. Just be gentle. I can't take much more this evening. And Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Button my shirt the right way. Please. You're not making this easy."

She looked down, apparently realizing for the first time that the shirt was gaping. She didn't turn away. She unbuttoned it entirely, letting him watch as she straightened the fabric and re-buttoned it. The swell of her breasts against that ragged silk nearly undid his resolution to keep his hands off her tonight. How in God's name could he expect her to believe he wasn't after her body at any cost if he couldn't show a little restraint.

She bent and kissed him. Her mouth was gentle, her lips brushing his with only the faintest suggestion of heat. It didn't matter. If this kept up, he knew his body was going to override anything his mind warned him not to do. He allowed himself a brief indulgence, sliding his hands under her shirt - his shirt - to circle the warm, bare skin of her waist. Alarm bells went off in his head as her kiss deepened almost reflexively in response.

He stood up and grabbed another shirt. Pulling it on, he said, "C'mon, I've got a surprise for you."

She gave him such a disbelieving look he laughed out loud.

"Nothing good has ever come from a Black Sheep saying that," she said with a perfectly straight face. Her eyes sparkled with good humor.

"Hey," he protested. "It's me."

"Yeah. Exactly." She rose and walked with him.

There were still a few revelers in the Sheep Pen but the base was largely quiet, the stillness broken only by the hum of night insects and muted chatter from mechanics on the flight line.

"I've been waiting for you to drop in to see this," he said. "I didn't know you were going to take the dropping in part quite so literally."

She looked at him curiously.

"See what?"

He wasn't sure if she'd like it. He didn't know if she wanted it or would even use it but he thought it was a good idea. He was sure some of the men thought he was looking out for his own selfish needs and maybe he was, but he hoped she wouldn't see it that way.

They stopped at the corner of the Sheep Pen. She shook her head in disbelief.

"If your surprise is a drink, you need to try a little harder."

"Close your eyes, Red."

"Seriously?" Her green-gray eyes remained wide open.

"Trust me." Realizing how that sounded, he laughed. "Trust me," he said again, firmly, and took her elbow.

"Let the record show this is against my better judgment," she said, but she closed her eyes and put a hand over them. Jim wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her behind the Sheep Pen.

"Open."

Sarah dropped her hand and blinked. Sitting in the shadows on a level patch of ground was a huge dog kennel. A variety of spare lumber had been fashioned into a 20-foot long, 10-foot wide boardwalk elevated a foot off the ground. It spanned the length of the clearing, situated for all-day shade. Woven wire was stretched over a stout framework of beams sunk deep into the ground. In one corner, a large dog house looked more solidly waterproof than any of the other structures on the base. A water bucket was secured in another corner. Sarah walked all the way around the structure, testing the fencing, checking the latch on the gate.

He didn't want her to think he was trying to get Raider out of the picture. The girl and that dog were practically fastened at the hip and separating them was the last thing he'd ever try to do. But she'd said the dog didn't like crowds and it wasn't like she could just turn the beast loose to run around the base like Meatball did. And yeah, there were times when three was definitely a crowd. But he mostly just hoped she would like it.

"You said Raider doesn't like being in the Sheep Pen or the mess when there are a lot of people around," Jim said, watching her face carefully. "This is a spot for him to hang out when you're here, so you don't have to take him everywhere and you don't have worry about him eating someone."

"You built this?" her voice was soft with amazement. "To make my dog happy?"

"It was my idea but all the guys helped. They like you and Raider." _And he scares the crap out of some of them so it was easy to sell them on it._

She turned to him, face alight with amused pleasure.

"That was . . . you didn't need . . . he'll love it. Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he said, and stumbled back as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He returned it, forgetting he'd gotten punched in the mouth barely an hour before.

 **XXX**

They ended up on the beach, walking slowly, arms around each other's waists. A waxing gibbous moon hung low, bathing the sand with silver light. The surf was a dull background roar.

"What's it like, flying combat?" she asked.

"What's the smallest bird you've ever been in?" he countered.

"An L5, with Raider on my lap. _That_ was a trip."

"So imagine you're in one that's bigger, heavier, with more speed and more power. You're up against guys flying birds that are smaller, lighter and more maneuverable. Some days you're the hunter, other days you're being hunted. It's either sheer boredom or sheer terror."

Jim looked her up and down.

"Greg took Kate up in his plane once, just to give her a taste of what it was like to fly in a Corsair. Your sister's really got a thing about flying." He shook his head. "But we're both too tall and you've got too much leg. We'd never fit."

She laughed.

"I heard about that. Kate didn't hate it nearly as much as she let on."

"Yeah, I know she didn't."

"How'd you know?"

"Greg told me. We talk about you girls now and then."

She stopped and stepped in front of him.

"Oh he did? And how much time have you you spent talking about me?" She wasn't angry, just curious. She figured it was kind of inevitable.

"I'd be lying if I said you never come up in conversation." Jim's smile was slow, teasing.

She could just imagine where _those_ conversations went. She ought to be glad Greg was the only guy Jim was talking to about her. Better one than all 19. She poked him gently in the belly and was gratified when he jumped back out of her way.

"I thought gentlemen don't kiss and tell."

"No one said I was a gentleman, darlin'." The look in his eyes warned her to proceed at her own risk. "Don't tell me you and Kate don't talk about . . . things . . ."

"Never." Her voice was above reproach. Then she burst out laughing. Yeah. They talked about _things_ all right. Kate did most of the talking.

They walked along the water's edge. Sarah leaned her head against Jim's shoulder, thinking how nice it was, being able to enjoy his body next to hers without feeling like she might lose control and do something reckless. Being this close to him, wearing his shirt, breathing in his scent made it hard enough, without him encouraging any sort of reckless behavior. Her heart had nearly stopped in his tent when he said he wanted to sleep with her. Well. Hell. It wasn't like there was really any doubt about it. She'd just tended to think in terms of generalities and not specifics when it came to that aspect of their relationship.

Her eyes were half closed, her mind drifting along that pleasant river of thought. She heard a giggle somewhere in the dark when they rounded a tumble of driftwood and Jim jerked to a stop.

"For the love of God, Anderson! Get a room!" he said. Sarah's eyes sprang open as Jim spun her around and pulled her back in the direction they'd come. It was dark but there was enough moonlight for her to catch a glimpse of bare skin, a lot of bare skin, entwined on a blanket.

Her eyes went wide with shock. She knew the boys took nurses down to the beach and she had a relatively good idea of what went on there, but walking into one of their trysts was another thing entirely.

"Sorry!" Jim called over his shoulder, chuckling.

"No problem," Anderson said. "It could happen to anyone."

"Sorry if we took your spot," a female voice called back. It was Ellen Morgan, the stacked, auburn-haired nurse Sarah had meet while visiting Dee at the hospital. She'd been Anderson's girl for quite a while, according to Kate.

Sarah was stunned. She didn't think she would be nearly as cavalier as Ellen if someone caught her in a compromising position.

"You guys have your own spots out here?" She was only half joking. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Not really. Well. Yeah. Maybe. But that wasn't mine. I had no idea they were down here or we'd never have . . . " his voice trailed off.

"Let me guess, your spot is much more secluded."

He stopped and pulled her into his arms.

"I'd like to take you there sometime."

Sarah wasn't prepared for the emotional and physical impact his words had. Her knees were actually trembling. She swallowed hard.

"I'd like that." Her voice was barely a whisper.

He tipped her head back and kissed her. The hunger of his mouth coursed through her and she struggled to keep her response light. When it became clear she wasn't going to win that battle, she broke off the embrace. The demands of the day were overwhelming her and she buried her face in his chest, stifling a yawn.

"C'mon, you're asleep on your feet," Jim said. "I'll walk you back to Kate's. She's probably ready to send Raider after both of us."

 **XXX**

TJ stared in disbelief as Jim kicked off his boots and sprawled on his bunk.

"Aw, come on, Jim! It was the perfect set up! I can't believe you didn't . . . I mean, she just came off a rough mission, her defenses were down, that crazy ass dog was with Kate. You had her alone on the beach. What's the matter with you? Why didn't you . . . ?" He spread his hands in exasperation.

"You're really something else, you know that?" Jim scowled at his wingman. "You ever think about giving a girl a little romance, not just getting laid?"

"Since when are you all about romance?"

"Shut up, TJ, go to sleep."

"Damnit," TJ muttered and turned off the light. "I really could have used that money."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: What comes around**

 **One week later**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

The bullet whined through the afternoon air like an angry hornet and ricocheted off a landing strut on the Corsair closest to the mechanics' shed. Andy Micklin jumped to his feet like he'd been shot personally. That probably saved his life, since the second bullet shattered the wooden parts crate he'd been dozing against.

"What the hell?" His yell was cut short when a third round caught him above the collarbone and he crashed to the ground, still swearing.

"Sniper!" Hutch yelled, hitting the dirt and crawling toward Micklin. "We got a sniper! Get down!"

Jim and Greg had been on their way to the flight line to discuss a recurring rudder cable problem they'd had during the morning's mission. They flattened themselves into the dirt as several more rounds hissed overhead.

"This damn war gets more fun by the day," Jim grumbled.

Greg raised his head a fraction of an inch and squinted to the west.

"The shooter's up in the hills, must be half-, three-quarters of a mile out. That'd take a damned good marksman."

As if reading his mind, a bullet bit into the dirt inches from the soles of Greg's boots. Exchanging a glance, both men rolled to a crouch and sprinted for the cover of the mechanics' shed. Hutch was wrapping a field dressing on Micklin's wound.

"How bad is it?" Greg asked.

"I had hangnails that hurt worse," the line chief growled, unlit cigar mashed but still clamped in his teeth. "That asshole better not start shootin' up my planes, you college boys did enough damage this morning."

Jim figured the remark was aimed at him even though he'd come back from the day's mission with less damage than the rest of the squadron but he kept his mouth shut. They had bigger problems.

After the initial volley sent everyone scrambling for cover, the sniper demonstrated a clear agenda of keeping the base pinned down and causing as much random damage as possible. He did it with a level of skill that provided plenty of time for a lengthy discussion regarding rudder cables with Hutch and an increasingly cranky, but no longer bleeding, Micklin.

For the next four hours, until the long tropical twilight filled the base with shadows, the sniper's carefully placed rounds ensured no one moved out-of-doors. When the sun set, the shooting stopped. Micklin was the only casualty, if they didn't count a case of beer that had been sitting on the steps of the Sheep Pen. It was still sitting there but repeated rounds had drained the contents into a sad puddle.

As a last act of defiance, the sniper tagged the generator and the base went on involuntary black out. Evening mess was served cold. Once it was full dark, Greg drove Micklin to the hospital to have his wound cleaned and dressed. The irascible line chief refused to stay there in spite of Doc Reese's attempt to keep him overnight for observation. He caused such a ruckus storming around that Dee drew herself up to her full 5' 3" and threatened to shoot him again if didn't settle down. Doc Reese released Micklin to Greg's care. The look on his face indicated he clearly expected to see one or both of them back within 24 hours.

Before dawn the next day, the squadron assembled in the Sheep Pen for the mission briefing.

"Suppose he's still out there?" Casey said, cautiously peering out the door as the sun came up.

"If he stayed on the west side of the island, he'd be shooting into the sun," Greg said. "We can take a look around from the air after the mission, although it's not likely we'll be able to see one man hiding in the jungle."

The sniper had not stayed on the west side of the island. He'd taken advantage of the night to move to a ridge above the east side of the camp. A series of evenly spaced rounds hissed through the air as the Black Sheep stepped out of the Sheep Pen into the early morning light. Bullets smacked into wooden tent frames and punctured metal drums of fuel and oil.

"Son of a bitch," Jim muttered as the men bolted back indoors. "This is getting real old, real fast."

"Casey, come with me and get Espritos on the horn," Greg hollered. He and his two executive officers ducked and dodged their way to the ops shack, a rain of bullets chasing them all the way. "Lard is going to have to get another unit to take our patrol today. We're gonna get turned into Swiss cheese by that riceball if we try to get to our planes."

Within minutes, the base was on lock down. The squadron couldn't get to the flight line. The men could barely get back to their tents. Any time they stepped more than a few feet from cover, they were driven back. Although the hospital hadn't come under fire, it went on lock down as well. No patients were evacuated out or transferred in from any of the hospital ships stationed in waters nearby. The 214 sat eerily silent, the tropical stillness punctuated by the crack of random rifle shots. By early afternoon, it was clear the sniper had relocated. Bullets peppered the camp from the west.

"Think it's just one guy?" TJ mused. He and the rest of the boys had taken refuge in the Sheep Pen. It offered the dual benefit of alcohol and a route to the head that wasn't in the shooter's direct line of sight.

"Hard to tell." Jim popped the cap off another beer bottle. "Sarah said the ones she's been dealing with were dropped in ones or twos. Could be two guys but the rounds are spaced pretty even. The end result's the same, either way. We ain't going nowhere."

 **XXX**

The third day of being under sniper fire meant no mission, no hot meals and no repairs to planes or anything else that had been damaged. A number of jeeps sat with forlornly flat tires. Camouflage netting had been hauled over the remaining exposed fuel and munitions.

Once darkness fell, Greg called Espritos again and appraised Lard of the situation. The colonel assured him a recon squadron would come over in a day or two for an aerial sweep of the island.

"A day or two? We don't have a day or two, Colonel," Greg exploded. "We've got some Japanese nutjob sitting up in the hills, taking potshots at us whenever we stick our noses out of our tents. He's pegged half our available oil and put holes in some of our birds. He put a hole in our line chief, too. It's just a matter of time before he gets bored with us and decides to target the hospital for fun."

"I'm sorry, Boyington, but we can't spare the manpower to fly over there right now just because someone shot a hole in a case of your beer."

"Colonel, how would you like it if someone tried to shoot you in the ass every time you went to the head?"

The line disconnected.

Greg glared at the radio, then took matters into his own hands.

"Casey, call the 137 at Rendova. Tell them we need to borrow Sarah and Raider. We're going hunting."

 **XXX**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry HQ**

The paperwork was going to kill her. Sarah shoved at the mess of forms, requisitions and reports that littered the desk in her tent. She wondered idly what would happen if she requisitioned a clerk to do her requisitions. Raider lay on the floor nearby, happily gnawing on a large, raw bone the cook had saved for him. Raider had a special spot in Cookie's heart, since Sarah occasionally let him reduce the rat population that plagued the field kitchen. Sarah knew using a Department of Defense military working dog to hunt rats was probably against regs but even dogs needed R and R now and then. Raider was very good at catching rats.

She stared at her desk. This report. That report. There were reports on the training status of new K9 teams, on the performance status of established teams, on the proficiency rating of all teams in the theatre, on the status of teams being rotated off the front lines or back to the states. There were patrol logs, reports on patrol logs, reports on training procedure, reports on updates to training procedure. Who had time to read all these reports?

She thought they could win this damn war by gathering up all the paperwork in the South Pacific and dropping it on Tokyo. The Japanese would be crushed into surrender.

She tossed the pencil down and let her mind drift. It drifted, as usual, to one Captain James W. Gutterman. She'd left him with a kiss and a promise. The kiss had been hot enough to draw a round of applause from the other men before she and Raider got back into the repaired transport. The promise had been hot enough to cause her more than one sleepless night since then. There was no telling when she'd see him again. There was no telling what would happen when she did.

To her way of thinking, sleeping with him was not only a question of when, but a question of where. When she imagined the two of them alone together, it was hard to think of a place in the middle of this stupid war that had the degree of privacy she thought would be appropriate. After stumbling into Bobby and Ellen's assignation the last time she was on La Cava, the beach seemed a little risky, but the thought of being there with Jim, just the two of them, surrounded by the vastness of sea and sky was appealing. What with virtually no privacy on the base, she knew her sister and Greg made good use of the beach. So did most of the other Black Sheep and their girls. It was the unspoken go-to venue for any sort of physical relationship beyond a few kisses and cuddles.

She shook her head as if to dislodge this train of thought. Stop it. This was _not_ what she needed on her mind right now. Jim's smile, his quiet chuckle, the warmth of his hands around her waist as he'd kissed her good-bye, slid into her thoughts at the most inopportune times and they almost always left her mind and her body in a heated snarl. She wondered if he thought about her nearly as much.

"Cameron?" Major Taylor's voice at the door of her tent jolted her out of thoughts that had nothing to do with requisitions. "Grab your dog and your gear. They've got a sniper on La Cava."

 **XXX**

"He's got to be using one of these to get across the island at night," Greg said, tapping an old recon map. It had been made shortly after the Japanese abandoned the base that became home to the 214. The surrounding hills were so forested with jungle, the only way to traverse the thick foliage was by sticking to a series of trails carved out eons ago by inhabitants who had long since moved on.

"Otherwise, he'd have to hack a new route each time and he wouldn't have enough time between when he stops shooting at dusk and starts again at dawn," Greg continued. "This is the shortest point between where he's firing from in the evening and where he starts in the morning. If we start on the east side and work west along this main trail, we stand a good chance of flushing him out."

Greg had asked for a couple of volunteers and the whole squadron had stepped up. He'd finally chosen Jim and Casey, because they were among the unit's best shots, and TJ, because he spoke rudimentary Japanese.

"We'll go down to our beachhead after sunset and work our way around to this point here." He stabbed the map with a forefinger. "We'll meet Sarah and a couple of guys from her unit on the beach there at 2200 hours. They'll come in on a PT boat from the South Dakota, which is anchored off our coast. And then we'll go hunting."

 **XXX**

Clouds scuttled across the full moon, turning the night into a shifting tapestry of light and shadow.

Sitting in the bow of the Zodiac, Sarah held Raider's collar as Eddie McGivern and Charlie Finnegan paddled. The dog was trembling with excitement. None of them spoke. The two men jumped out as the small craft hit the shallows and drug it onto the beach.

Jim, Greg, Casey and TJ were waiting in the shadows under the treeline. Sarah and her men joined them.

"Darlin', you do show up in the most unexpected places," Jim said.

She returned his smile. Of all the things she'd imagined they'd do the next time they were together, hunting a sniper in the middle of the night with five other men was not one of them.

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time." She kept her tone light. Her mind was set firmly in mission mode. There'd be time later to think about anything else.

"Cameron's told us all about ya'll Black Sheep," Eddie said. "You boys got a reputation for gettin' the job done."

Sarah did the introductions. Eddie McGivern and Charlie Finnegan were sharpshooters from her unit. Eddie's Oklahoma drawl matched Jim's as the men exchanged comments on the entertainment lineup provided this evening by the Empire of Japan. Short and stocky, Charlie, who had grown up in the Appalachian coal mining country, introduced himself as 10 bushels of ornery in a nine bushel sack. He was also a medic and passably fluent in Japanese, qualities Sarah thought would probably come in handy before the night was over, one way or another. She assured the Black Sheep either of the men could track a black rock inside a cellar on a dark night.

"Cameron's in charge of this op, we're just backup," Eddie drawled. "We done this a time or two and this here dog'll find your sniper for you."

The clouds slid back, bathing the landscape in silver moonlight.

"Fine night to go varmint hunting," Jim said.

"Where I come from, the varmints don't shoot back," Sarah muttered. She shoved her hair up under her hat. Raider bounced at her side, delighted with the evening's prospects.

"Lead the way, Sergeant," Greg motioned. "We've got your back." The men fell in behind her.

"Let's move out." She stepped into the darkness.

 **XXX**

Jim had told her flying combat was hours of sheer boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. Leading a patrol was pretty much the same. Even following the trail, it was slow going. The moonlight pulled the color out of the landscape and spun a net of shadows that made their surroundings a floating kaleidoscope of black and silver.

Sarah was walking point with Raider. Unlike the afternoon he'd tracked Jim, now the dog was on a shorter line, working closer to her. She was watching the jungle with one eye and Raider with the other. The cover had thinned at a higher elevation and the men were fanned out on either side of the trail. They were far enough into the interior of the island that they'd left the strong breeze cast up by the ocean behind them. Only a slight whisper indicated air moving toward them from the island's windward side. Scenting conditions were perfect. Providing the sniper cooperated and was moving toward them, any human odor would be blowing into Raider's face.

In spite of the dance between clouds and moonlight, Sarah was connected to her dog beyond visual contact. Even when his dark fur blended with the shadows, she could feel the intensity of his presence vibrating up the line. The dog was in total hunting drive – silent, ears pricked, tail wagging with enthusiasm. His mouth was open, pulling the humid air over the vast array of olfactory receptors in his nasal cavities.

They'd been walking for three-quarters of an hour when she saw Raider's head whip up, tasting the air currents. She threw up her hand, signaling a halt. The brush had thickened again, deepening the shadows. She couldn't see anything beyond a half dozen yards in any direction.

Raider bristled, his body pointing off the trail. He'd gone totally rigid, even the soft swish of his tail changed to stiff, rapid lashing as he strained toward a clump of low scrub 50 feet away. His indication was clear.

Sarah signaled TJ, who yelled in Japanese, "Drop your weapons and come out!"

There was a rustling in the foliage but no one appeared. Raider was keenly alert, focused on the shrubs, which were no more than a dark shadow against a darker background.

"Tell him I'll count to three and then I turn the dog loose," Sarah said.

TJ relayed the message.

"One . . . " she counted loudly. TJ echoed her in Japanese. "Two. . . I'm turning the dog loose!"

Her fingers were on the leash clip when a soldier emerged, yelling frantically in Japanese, hands held high. Jim and Eddie rushed him and secured his arms behind his back. Greg picked up the man's rifle and frisked him for other weapons, which included a pistol in a shoulder harness and a knife strapped to his leg.

TJ and Charlie questioned the soldier, relaying his responses in terse sentences. Sarah stood close by, Raider straining on his leash. The dog was still bristling with the agitation of not being allowed to bite his target after he found it. She could have settled him with a word but knew the dog's presence held the prisoner at a psychological disadvantage.

"Are you alone?" TJ asked. The man nodded his head in agreement and burst out in a torrent of words.

"He claims he is alone," TJ translated slowly. "He was put ashore by a sub three days ago with instructions to . . . demoralize the enemy. He was on his way to the extraction point tonight when the hell beast, um, Raider, found him."

"Ask him if they will send more snipers to this island," Greg said.

Charlie translated this time. The prisoner responded in rapid Japanese.

"He does not know, he only knows he was assigned to . . . incapacitate . . . the enemy for three days, then meet at the extraction point."

The men were gathered around the soldier. Greg was questioning him further. TJ and Charlie were translating. Sarah watched Raider. The dog's focus had shifted off the prisoner. He was sniffing the air, muzzle high, pulling away from the group. The prisoner shifted uneasily. He was looking around at the darkness of the surrounding jungle, eyes moving furtively. Suddenly, he threw himself to the ground.

Raider spun 90 degrees and stiffened, hackles up, tail flagging hard and fast. Sarah recognized his indication for the second time in less than 10 minutes.

"Get down!" she yelled, diving for the ground. "There's another shooter!"

A sidearm spat, the muzzle flash was a bright flame against the darkness. Night birds screeched as they lifted from the trees. Casey jerked backward, clutching his arm as he fell. Rolling onto her side, Sarah could see the dark stain blossoming through his fingers, black in the moonlight.

Raider was bouncing up and down in place, a keening whine in the back of his throat. Sarah slid her hands down to his collar. This was the moment she loved and hated with equal passion. She loved watching her dog do the job he was trained for. She hated knowing she could be sending him to his death.

"Go find!" she said, unclipping the leash while still prone and scrambling to her feet as the dog launched into the undergrowth. Jim, TJ and Greg followed her, crouching low. Eddie and Charlie stayed with Casey and the prisoner.

For a minute, there was only the sound of Raider crashing through the foliage, then a loud scream and a volley of terrified Japanese. A gunshot echoed through the night. The group went flat again. Sarah swallowed hard, the scent of crushed green things filling her nose as she pressed against the leaf mold.

"You always this much fun at a party?" Jim whispered from his position a few yards away.

Then the chaos of bodies thrashing through the foliage was overlaid by renewed screaming. More shots echoed wildly. A slug bit into a tree trunk behind her, then she heard the hammer fall repeatedly on an empty chamber.

She grinned at Jim.

"Yep. The fun never ends when I'm around."

She climbed to her feet and scrambled forward.

The moon broke through the cloud cover to illuminate the figure of a Japanese soldier struggling to stay upright. Raider's jaws were clamped around the man's right tricep and he clung tenaciously, hind paws off the ground, as the man thrashed and screamed, waving the empty pistol.

TJ yelled in Japanese.

"Drop the gun!"

The man complied, flinging the pistol to the ground. Jim and Greg stepped toward him and quick as a cat, the soldier pulled a knife from his boot with his left hand. Sarah saw moonlight glint on the razor sharp blade as he drove it blindly toward Raider's belly. In one fluid motion, she sighted and fired. The shot echoed through the trees, shattering the night. Tissue and bone spattered as the slug blew the knife out of the man's hand. He screamed and fell, writhing, to the ground, Raider still hard on his arm.

Keeping her rifle trained on the fallen man, Sarah stepped into the clearing. As soon as Greg and Jim reached him, she called Raider. He released immediately and returned to her side. Sarah dropped to her knees and hastily ran her hands over her dog, checking for injuries. The blood on his fur was not his. She rose, wiping her hands on her trousers.

Greg and Jim had the prisoner suspended between them. His upper arm was a mess of blood and shredded fabric. His right hand wasn't any better.

"Ask him if there are any other men out there," she snapped. TJ complied.

The man sneered at her and snarled something in reply that needed no translation. Sarah raised her rifle and put a slug neatly into the tree trunk two inches above his head.

"Tell him to consider his answer carefully. The next one goes in his leg and I turn the dog loose if I think he's lying."

The man paled as TJ translated.

"He says no. Only the two of them, no more. He also says you are, um . . . a crazy bitch. I think he's telling the truth. Sorry. I meant he's telling the truth about there only being two snipers."

The man turned toward her. His face was distorted with anger and he was yelling so furiously Sarah didn't need a translator. Stepping toward him, she said, "Then you shouldn't have tried to fuck with my dog."

Apparently her meaning was clear. The man shut up.

With the prisoner stumbling ahead of them, the group made their way back to Casey, Eddie, Charlie and the first soldier.

"Are you all right?" Sarah knelt by Casey. Eddie had field-dressed his arm. Casey was pale, even by moonlight standards, but he assured her he was okay.

"Through and through. I'll live."

Sarah squeezed his shoulder and rising, turned away. The adrenaline was draining out of her, leaving her cold and dizzy. The image of the knife driving toward Raider as he clung to the man's arm kept replaying itself. It had happened once before, when she'd been too slow to react. It wouldn't happen again. Behind her, Eddie had bound compression bandages on the second Japanese soldier's tricep and hand and he and Charlie were marching both prisoners toward the beach. Greg, Jim and TJ were talking to Casey. Raider was at her side, keeping an eye on everyone, just in case.

Sarah anchored her hand in the dog's fur. She kept seeing the knife glinting, bone and blood spraying, Raider clinging tight to the man as he fell, both of their bodies crashing to the ground. Nausea unexpectedly rolled over her, churning her stomach into a heaving mass. She staggered a few yards away, leaned against a tree and vomited. When she finished retching, she realized Jim was there, a hand on her back.

"You all right, Red?" he asked quietly.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and turned toward him. She was trembling and cold in spite of the evening's warmth. Without speaking, Jim wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, soaking in the heat of his body, letting him support her. He handed her his canteen and she took a grateful sip, rinsed her mouth and spat.

"Thanks. I'm fine." She took a deep breath. He didn't let go of her.

"First time you ever shot someone?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "I've never had to before. They've always just . . . surrendered. Or they gave up as soon as the dogs got them and there was no need to shoot."

"You didn't kill him. Just made it harder for him to use chopsticks."

She laughed shakily.

"You do it every day. Kill men."

"Not every day," he said softly. "But they're trying to kill me, too. Just like now. If you hadn't shot that guy, you could have lost your dog. That was a damn fine shot, by the way."

"It was, wasn't it?" She looked up at him, warmth coming back to her slowly. "I think I got lucky. I was so worried I'd hit Raid, I aimed low."

"C'mon, I bet Greg brought a bottle. You look like you could use a drink."

Eddie stepped up behind them.

"Cameron! You all right?"

"I'll do." She straightened. "I'm staying on La Cava. When you get home, tell Major Taylor I'm taking the R and R he still owes me. If he wants me, he can find me with the Black Sheep. Tell him Raider had an interview with the press corps."

"I'll give him the message." Eddie shook his head and drawled, "The Scotch here must be awfully good." He gave a knowing glance at Jim's arm still around her shoulders but didn't say anything.

"It is." Greg produced a flask. He handed it to Sarah first and she took a welcome swallow. She'd never be able to drink like Kate but at that moment, with Raider leaning against her leg and Jim's arm still warm around her, she welcomed the tendrils of smoky heat as they uncurled in her belly.

Eddie and Charlie loaded the prisoners into the Zodiac and headed back to the South Dakota. Sarah and TJ helped a wobbly Casey stand up. Charlie had been enthusiastic about administering pain killers and it looked like Casey was going to need considerable support for the walk back to the base.

They gathered up their gear and the party of four men, one woman and a dog made their way slowly along the beach through the moonlight.

 **XXX**

It was 0200 when they reached the base. Sarah was pretty sure she smelled like a water buffalo and in spite of the hour there was no way she was going to sleep like that. She woke Kate and gave her a fast briefing, then borrowed clothes and shower things and made her way to the squadron's outdoor facility. Raider stayed with Kate. He liked her almost as well as he liked Sarah.

The moon was still playing hide and seek with the clouds, providing enough light for her to surefootedly reach the shower stalls. She stepped in, hooked the door and stripped down. The water was still surprisingly warm from the day's sun. She wouldn't have cared if it wasn't. She soaped away the sweat and grime, trying to let her mind go blank. It didn't work. The image of the knife flashing toward Raider kept replaying itself, driving up toward the dog's soft belly, then the hand, exploding in bone and blood. At least she could think about it now without puking. She supposed that was an improvement.

"Are you all right in there? Do you need any help?" A male voice interrupted her thoughts.

Sarah yelped. It was Jim.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, no!"

"Did you fall and hit your head? You sound confused."

She wrapped her arms across her bare breasts even though the shower walls were tall enough Jim would have to be leaning on them to see anything. Not that she wouldn't put it past him.

"I'm fine. Really. What are you doing here?"

"Same thing you are. Wanna conserve water?"

She swore, laughing, under her breath.

"You're too late. I'm almost done."

She heard the squeak of the adjoining stall door as it opened and closed.

"You could still join me. I need someone to wash my back." The humor in his voice was an open invitation.

She had half a mind to. She'd never showered with a man before and it would sure as hell take her mind off the evening. She was pondering it when she heard Greg and TJ's voices coming down the path. Adding two more guys to the picture kind of wreaked havoc with her privacy issues.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Greg called. She could picture the grin on his face without seeing him.

"Does it look like you're interrupting anything?" She tried to keep her voice steady. Jim's invitation was still chasing through her mind.

"If you intended to shower together, you're doing it wrong," TJ called out.

"Shut up, TJ," she said amiably. "How's Casey?" Greg and TJ had poured him into a jeep and driven him to the hospital when they got back to the base.

"Doc Reese is keeping him overnight but says he'll be fine. He was so lit up on whatever pain meds McGivern gave him he didn't even know he'd been shot."

Sarah toweled off and pulled on her clothes. Water splashed in the adjoining stall. Jim was singing "As Time Goes By" in a pleasant tenor. She looked at her watch and shook her head. She was bathing in the dark at 0200 on a Marine fighter base after shooting a guy who'd tried to kill her dog and her brain had wrapped itself around all of it as perfectly normal behavior, including an invitation to shower with Jim, which she had seriously considered. Lord, what had her life come to?

"I'm going to bed," she announced, stepping out of the stall. There was an expectant pause. "By myself," she added clearly.

Jim shut off the water.

"Hell, Red, after tonight, I'm not arguing with you. Sweet dreams, darlin'."

All three men laughed.

She turned and walked back up the trail toward the base. In the background, Greg and TJ had joined Jim on "As Time Goes By." Their voices blended agreeably, words drifting through the tropical night.

" _A fight for love and glory, a case of do or die, the world will always welcome lovers, as time goes by."_

She shook her head. Men.

 **XXX**

Sarah hooked the bucket of water on the fence in Raider's kennel and watched as the big dog stuck his nose in it. He drank thirstily, then pulled his dripping muzzle out and shook, sending water and slobber spraying.

"You're a mess," she said affectionately. Raider sprawled onto the kennel floor and rolled onto his back, sticking all four feet in the air. Smiling, Sarah latched the gate and returned to the nearby spigot to rinse her face. The water felt wonderful on her hot skin.

She and Raider had gone for a late day run. It was always pleasant at the beach, with the breeze coming off the ocean. Pounding barefoot across the wet sand, watching the dog loping ahead of her, she could almost forget she was in the middle of a war. The Black Sheep had gone up on a mid-day mission and should be back any time now. Kate was in her tent, working on a story. Soon they'd head to the nurse's quarters to shower and then she was looking forward to whatever the evening might hold. The boys had been talking about a bonfire to celebrate the base's sniper-free status. Sarah was having trouble putting the previous night's images out of her mind and figured any time spent with Jim – either alone or en masse with the Black Sheep - would probably fix that.

She was letting cold water drip over the back of her neck when a woman's voice jolted her out of her reverie.

"So you're the dog handler."

The speaker's voice was edged with disdain.

Sarah wiped her face on her T-shirt and straightened. The girl standing next to the hydrant was wearing a nurse's jumpsuit. She had fashionably styled hair and a curvy figure, and would have been attractive if not for the scowl on her face. Sarah had never seen her before.

"Sergeant Sarah Cameron, 137th Infantry, K9 Tactical Unit." She held out her hand in greeting.

"Captain Jeannie McDowell." She didn't take Sarah's offered hand. A sly smile spread across her face. "Jim might have mentioned me."

 _Well, wasn't this awkward,_ Sarah thought _. Yeah, sweetheart, he's mentioned you._

"I heard you were back on La Cava." Jeannie said.

"I was due for a little R and R."

"And you chose to spend it here? Really, Sergeant, why would anyone come here for R and R?" Jeannie's voice dripped sarcasm as she looked around at the shabby buildings and tents that constituted the 214.

"Is that a problem?"

Jeannie's lip curled.

"Yeah. That's a problem. He belonged to me, you know, before you stuck your nose in the middle of it." She folded her arms across her chest, her posture a study in belligerence.

"I didn't know it was legal to own another person," Sarah said mildly.

The girl's ice blue eyes turned a shade colder. She tried a different tack.

"You're not his type."

Sarah didn't answer. She was getting tired of both the speaker and the conversation.

"He seems to be fine with my type," she said bluntly and turned to leave.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Jeannie snapped, following her. They were in front of the Sheep Pen now. She grabbed Sarah's elbow, fingers digging in hard. "Stay away from him," she said. "Don't you have enough boys to play with on Rendova?"

Sarah shook her arm loose and returned the icy stare without speaking.

"Just leave him alone or you'll be sorry." Jeannie clenched her fists at her sides.

"Don't threaten me," Sarah said. "I think Jim's made it clear he doesn't want any part of you. And it sounds like he's had pretty much every part you could offer him."

The brunette recoiled. She hadn't expected Sarah to know that much. Her face twisted into a snarl.

A couple of men had stopped a few yards away, drawn by the undeniable scent of a fight brewing. Fights between the men were common enough. Fights between girls were rarer and had a much higher entertainment value. Given the history of the participants, this one looked to be spectacular.

Jeannie took a step closer. Sarah shifted her balance to the balls of her feet, weighing her options between offense and defense.

"I ought to teach you a lesson for stealing another girl's man, you little red-haired slut."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Sarah's voice was dangerously low. This was absurd. Schoolyard brawling was fine for the men but she was not stooping to that level.

"Or what? You'll set your attack dog on me?" Jeannie sneered. "Oh, too bad, you've already locked him up. And the boys aren't here to come to your rescue. Looks like it's just you and me."

"It's over between you and Jim. Let it go. This is stupid." Sarah took a cautious step backward, getting out of the other girl's range. Jeannie pressed forward.

"Why do you keep backing up? Are you scared of me?"

Her first swing was wild and Sarah avoided it easily. She stepped back as the other girl stumbled past her. Sarah groaned inwardly. This was the last thing she wanted to do. Jeannie turned and rushed her. Sarah stuck out a well-timed foot that sent the brunette sprawling into the dirt. Jeannie clawed her way back to her feet and charged.

 **XXX**

"Come quick! You gotta see this!" Hutch met Jim as he climbed out of his bird. The mission had gone well, with pilots and planes returning in more or less one piece.

"What?" Jim pulled off his headgear and gloves.

Hutch shook his head.

"You're not gonna believe it. Just hurry."

With the rest of the squadron trailing him , Jim covered the short distance from the flight line to the Sheep Pen.

"What the - ?" he was speechless.

Dirt-streaked now, Jeannie threw herself in a rage at Sarah, who was playing solid defense. The nurse had a lot of physical skills but fighting was not one of them. Sarah blocked her clumsy blows, refusing to engage. The look on Sarah's face was one of growing irritation. The look on Jeannie's was murderous.

As the men gathered, the brunette rushed at Sarah again. She waited until the last minute, then blocked the other girl's swing and spun backward out of the way. Years of riding horseback and months of working with high drive dogs had given her a keen sense of both balance and timing.

"You want help breaking it up?" Greg mused.

"Nope," Jim said thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "I got a feeling they need to settle it themselves."

"That's enough, Jeannie. Stop it." Sarah said, staying just out of reach.

"Not until you leave him alone."

"Damn, James, I have never seen women fighting over you before," Bob Anderson observed. "It's usually the other way around."

Jim shook his head. He sure as hell hadn't seen this coming.

Kate appeared at Greg's shoulder.

"Who started this?" she asked quietly, as Sarah dodged another onslaught of slapping blows.

"I'm guessing it wasn't your little sister," Jim said. "She don't look too thrilled about it."

"Hmpf," Kate snorted. "Jeannie doesn't know her very well. Sair might not start something but trust me, she always finishes it."

Raider, who had been pacing in his pen, barked in frustration. Sarah's head instinctively whipped in the dog's direction. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Jeannie landed a vicious slap that cracked against Sarah's cheek and rocked her head back.

That was the final straw.

Sarah rounded on her. "That will do." She stormed toward the brunette, who seemed suddenly unable to move. Without missing a stride, Sarah swung from the back 40 and drove her fist into Jeannie's jaw. The brunette went sprawling on her back in the dirt and lay there, dazed.

"You even think about touching me again and it'll be worse for you the next time," Sarah snarled. "I guarantee it."

Greg chuckled. He looked at Jim.

"Remember the time you told me Kate might kill me but I'd die a happy man?"

"Yeah," Jim said slowly.

Greg thumped him on the back.

"What comes around, goes around. Have fun with that, buddy."

Jim approached her cautiously. The anger radiating off her was nearly palpable. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her how damn amazing he thought she was but given her state of mind, that probably wasn't a good idea. What he really wanted to do was push her up hard against the wall of the Sheep Pen and put all that hot emotion to good use. He sighed. That wasn't going to happen either.

Sarah was doubled over, cradling her hand and swearing a blue streak.

"I think it's broken," she groaned, studying the appendage in question.

"Let me see." Jim took her wrist, gently turning her hand over. She'd split the skin on two knuckles. He slowly unfolded her fingers. She winced but didn't pull away. Her color was high, her eyes hard jade. A bruise was already blossoming across one cheekbone. She looked furious and hot and . . . _Damn it, Gutterman, get a grip._ He looked back at her hand. "I don't think you broke anything. First time you've ever slugged someone?"

"Yes. I'm never doing it again. How do you guys pound on each other so much?"

"Sarah, you're an honorary Black Sheep if I ever saw one," Greg said before Jim could answer.

"But I didn't even start that," Sarah protested. "She came over here and the next thing I know . . ."

Greg shook his head.

"Sweetheart, around here it doesn't matter who started it. All that matters is who's still standing at the end." Looking at her hand, he added, "You'll want to ice that." He walked off.

"Never had a girl defend my honor before," Jim said.

"I'm not sure your honor was ever in question," Sarah said darkly. She studied her hand and muttered, "I think it was more about defending territory."

Jim was having a hard time keeping a smile off his face. He wondered why on God's earth he'd ever thought she'd be an easy score.

"You said it, not me." He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She didn't resist as he led her into the Sheep Pen and yelled for someone to fill an ice bag.

 **XXX**

Intermittent showers that evening turned the proposed bonfire into a party in the Sheep Pen instead. Jim caught up with Sarah and Kate just as they were walking up the steps. He took Sarah's arm. Looking at Kate, he said, "I'm borrowing your sister for a bit."

"Bring her back, she's kind of the guest of honor at this bash," Kate said. "Her and Raider. And he won't be there either."

Sarah had tucked the dog back into his spacious kennel after feeding him supper. She knew he would rather be there instead of in the crowded bar where he had to constantly be on the lookout for clumsy human feet.

"Go ahead and start without us," Jim said to Kate. She raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything.

Jim led Sarah down to the beach and they walked along the water's edge. The sun was setting, colors muted by bands of rain offshore.

"What's on your mind?" she asked. The last 24 hours had been an adrenaline-charged roller-coaster of tension, fear and fury, and that didn't even take into account her feelings when she'd thought about stepping into the shower with him. She wondered if they would ever spend time together that didn't involve some kind of emotional or physical upheaval.

"Nothing, really. Just wanted a few minutes alone with you before the party." He wrapped his arm around her waist. She looked up at him, locking his smile into her memory. That damned good old boy smile and everything that went with it. She knew she'd be seeing it in her dreams.

"How's your hand?"

She flexed stiff fingers.

"Sore. My fighting career is done."

"You're retiring undefeated."

"You must think I'm a total ruffian."

"I think you're incredible." The honest admiration in his voice sent her stomach tumbling. All he had to do was talk to her in that tone and she'd do anything he asked. Anything.

"Most guys don't like girls who go around shooting people and knocking other women on their ass."

"Darlin, I'm not most guys."

He could say that again. Most other guys didn't make her feel this way. All right, no other guys made her feel this way.

Jim bent and picked up a stone from the pebbles that littered the beach. He rubbed it on his shirt and handed it to her.

She rolled it on her palm. The stone was a dark green oval the length of her thumb, edges worn smooth, the surface etched to a satin patina by unknown eons of seawater. When she held it up to the misty sun, it glowed dark jade.

"What is it?"

"Mermaids' tears."

"What?"

"Legend has it when a sailor drowns, mermaids cry and their tears wash ashore."

The look she gave him was so skeptical he laughed.

"It's called sea glass. It's from old shipwrecks - bottles or jugs or whatever. The currents wash it up all the time, especially when it's stormy. It could have been churning around in the ocean for a couple of centuries." He paused. "It matches your eyes."

"Listen to you, saying all kinds of romantic things. You're still trying to get my pants off, aren't you?"

"Damn right, darlin'."

His kiss was slow and full of unspoken promises.

"I have to leave tomorrow," she whispered. "I don't know when I'll see you again."

So far, their time together had been totally by accident. They'd never actually planned to see one another. The earth would probably spin off its axis if they tried, she thought.

It had started to rain again. He pushed her hair off her face, running his thumbs over her cheekbones. God, his touch was wonderful. It didn't matter where he touched her. She closed her eyes.

"I'll find you, Red. I think we'll always find each other."

The sprinkles were turning into something heavier. He took her hand.

"C'mon. They'll think we don't have enough sense to come in out of the rain."

As they headed back to the Sheep Pen, she wondered if she had any sense at all where he was concerned.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: And the greatest of these is love (I Corinthians 13:13)**

 **Vella La Cava, 214 HQ**

After the Black Sheep went up on a late-day patrol, Kate abandoned work on her current story and collapsed on her bunk. She and Greg had been up late the night before, inventorying the squadron's black market trade goods. At least that's what she'd told Jim when he called her out for yawning over breakfast. The look in his eye said he knew better. The look in hers said she didn't care.

The base dozed in the afternoon heat. When Hutch knocked on her tent frame and stuck his head inside, she was sound asleep, Meatball sprawled next to her.

"Katie? Katie! Wake up! There's been an accident!"

She came awake immediately.

"What? Greg?" She swung her feet over the edge of her bunk and scrambled for her boots.

"Not Greg. It's Sarah." Hutch looked half-panicked. "They just flew her in from Munda. She's been shot. I was at the hospital when they brought her in." He raised an arm wrapped in a blood-stained bandage. "Come on. I'll drive you over there."

Kate beat him out of the tent.

 **XXX**

 **Five hours later**

The sun was setting, casting the base into green-gold twilight as Jim and Greg strode into the hospital. Hutch had met them with a jeep and given them the news as soon as they landed. Greg took one look at Jim's face and said, "Get in, I'm driving."

Privacy screens were set around the last bed at the far end of the ward, separating its occupant from the neighboring male patients. Kate was slumped in a chair next to the bed, head in her hands. A lamp glowed on the bedside table, pushing shadows into the corners.

Sarah lay motionless, eyes closed, arms straight at her sides on top of the blanket. She was wearing a blue hospital johnny and an IV line ran from her arm to a jar attached to a pole near the bed. A bloody bruise on her left temple contrasted with the paleness of her skin. The slight rise and fall of her chest was the only indication she was alive.

Jim took a deep breath, unprepared for the edge of fear that sliced into his heart. The sparkling vitality Sarah usually wore like a cloak had been reduced to a tiny pinpoint of life on a hospital bed. She looked impossibly fragile, like she would shatter if anyone touched her. He stopped awkwardly as Kate rose at the sound of their boots. Greg wrapped his arms around her.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"She and Raider were on patrol with a unit on Munda, tracking another sniper," Kate said. "They were crossing an open area, it sounded like a nightmare of wind and rain. Her CO said Raider had just indicated when the shot hit her. He thinks they were trying to hit Raider but missed and hit her instead. It's just a flesh wound, not serious. But when she fell, she hit her head. She's been unconscious since. Doc Reese says it's probably just a concussion and we shouldn't worry. He says she'll wake up when she's ready."

Jim looked around.

"Where's Raider?"

Kate laughed shakily.

"She'd love that you asked. He's fine. Another K9 handler with her unit has him. They stabilized her at the field hospital there but when she didn't regain consciousness, they evac'd her here. I guess the field hospital was pretty primitive. Doc Reese doesn't think she needs to go on to Espritos. There's nothing they could do for her there that he can't do here. It's just a waiting game now."

"How long have you been sitting here?" Greg rubbed Kate's shoulders. She leaned against him, exhaustion etched on her face.

"They brought her in a little after you guys went up this afternoon. Hutch was here, getting stitches – he was splicing a wiring harness and the knife slipped - he came and got me." Kate looked at her watch. "So, about five hours, I guess, maybe six."

Dee stopped to check Sarah's blood pressure and heart rate. Jim rubbed his jaw.

"I've had concussions before, never been knocked out that long," he said. "Are you sure nothing else is wrong?"

"She's stable, all her vitals are normal." Dee assured him as she unwrapped the blood pressure cuff. "Dr. Reese says it could be 20 minutes or 10 hours before she comes around. I'm on duty tonight, I'll keep an eye on her. She'll be fine." Dee looked at Kate. "Camerons have notoriously hard heads."

"You need a break, sweetheart," Greg said. "Sitting here isn't going to make her wake up any faster. Come back to the base with us. I'll drive you back over in the morning."

Kate looked at Sarah's still form and shook her head.

"I don't want her to be alone when she wakes up."

"You guys go back," Jim said. "I'll stay."

Kate looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.

"Are you sure? You just came off a long mission, aren't you beat?"

"I can sleep here." Jim pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed and slouched into it. "I've woken up here before. It's more fun when you've got company."

"Thank you." Kate's voice was soft with emotion. She squeezed Sarah's unresponsive arm and whispered, "I'll see you in the morning, Sair." She rested her hand briefly on Jim's shoulder, then left with Greg.

 **XXX**

Jim sat as darkness fell. A nurse checked on Sarah and turned out the table lamp, casting the space into gauzy shadows. Dee brought him a plate of food from the dining hall. He ate it without tasting.

He listened to the slow rhythm of Sarah's breathing. Reaching out he covered her left hand with his. Her fingers were warm. There was a jagged, scabbed-over cut at the base of her index finger. Her forearm was a patchwork of half-healed scratches and bruises. He shook his head. Sarah was a lot of things but delicate was not one of them. He'd never met a girl who embraced life with such a casual disregard for getting battered and bruised. Seeing her so unnaturally still made his heart squeeze uncomfortably. The white cotton blanket across her chest barely moved.

He studied the fine bones of her face, thinking back to the first time he'd seen her, in a photo with an article in Stars and Stripes about the War Department using K9s. She'd shown up on La Cava shortly after that. He remembered her and Raider standing on the top step of that transport. That smile. Those green eyes. He'd wanted her immediately. Oh, hell, any guy who was breathing would have wanted her.

But even then, there'd been something about her he couldn't pin down. It couldn't be measured or charted or given coordinates. He was flying by dead reckoning when it came to his feelings about her, following instinct on something he had no experience with.

All he knew was that she had become an anchor in his life – one of the few things he could count on amidst the uncertainty that swirled around all of them. Without trying, she'd filled the void he'd carried since he was a teenager, alone too much, half-wild, usually in trouble and if not, looking for it. She was everything good that had ever happened to him, besides being part of the Black Sheep. How was it possible to have feelings like this for a girl he'd only seen off and on for less than three months? This went way beyond wanting to take her to bed. Beyond way beyond.

The way she looked at him from under her lashes. The touch of her hand. The sound of her voice telling him no. No. No. No. Until that night on Rendova when she hadn't told him no. She'd taken him by surprise, although he'd been happy to meet her more than halfway.

A war was a lousy place to expect any kind of relationship to last after the sun came up. None of them were guaranteed a tomorrow. Had it been luck that kept her from getting killed today? Fate? Destiny? A thousand _what ifs_ ran through his mind as he sat in the darkness, watching her breathe.

What if Doc Reese was wrong? What if she didn't wake up? There were a lot of things he'd never said that he wanted her to know. He'd never said them because part of him was afraid she didn't feel the same way. Another part was afraid she did and he wasn't sure he was ready for that, either.

 **XXX**

Sarah could hear the muted roar of planes taking off in the distance. She struggled through layers of stifling darkness that threatened to suffocate her. Pain stabbed through her head, the darkness was filled with gunfire, men yelling, Raider barking. She remembered unclipping his leash, sending him, screaming as pain tore through her, the ground rushing toward her in slow motion, then . . . nothing.

When she opened her eyes, the light was painfully bright. She clamped them shut again and took a couple of breaths.

She opened them a fraction. Pre-dawn sunlight was trickling through a window. The scent of alcohol-based disinfectant mixed with laundry starch. She could hear the quiet murmur of voices. When she worked up the courage to open her eyes all the way, the white blur slowly focused itself into a ceiling and privacy screens.

And Jim.

She blinked. He was half in a chair, half slumped sideways on the foot of the bed, head across his forearm. He was wearing a flight suit and stubble covered his jaw. He did not look comfortable but was sound asleep in spite of it. Her mind churned. She'd been on Munda. What was he doing there?

"Jim?" Her voice was a dry croak. She swallowed and tried again. "Jim?"

He lifted his head and looked at her blearily, then broke into a smile.

"Darlin', when I dream about waking up with you, this isn't what I had in mind."

The sound of his voice, rough with sleep, sent her heart soaring.

"What are you doing on Munda?"

"I'm not on Munda. You're on La Cava. Again."

"La Cava? Why - what happened?" She pushed herself to a sit, wincing as the IV pulled at her arm. Jim stretched and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Before you got shot? Or after?"

Her eyes went suddenly wide and she looked around in alarm.

"Raider! Where's Raid?" She swung her feet out of bed but her legs tangled in the sheets. Jim bolted out of the chair and grabbed her shoulders before she toppled over.

"He's okay. Sarah! Be still, he's fine."

"Where is he?" She stopped moving but he could see the panic in her face. Jim pressed her back onto the pillow and sat on the edge of the bed, his hands still gripping her shoulders.

"One of the other handlers has him. Kate said it was somebody named Harley or Harris or something like that."

"Harrison. Jack Harrison." She sagged in relief. One hand cautiously explored her head. "Did they get the guy? We were so close, we had to have been right on top of him."

"Yeah. You kind of were." Jim's hands relaxed but he didn't let go. "Your boys got him." He paused. "Raider got him first."

She smiled, wincing. "Good dog. Did I get shot in the head? It feels like I did."

"You got shot in the leg. You got hit on the head."

Sarah let the hand not tethered to the IV explore the bandage on her thigh.

"I didn't even feel my leg until now. God, my head hurts."

Dee stuck her head around the screen.

"Hey, look who woke up! How do you feel?"

"Like I spent the night drinking with the Black Sheep."

Dee produced a blood pressure cuff.

"That would have been more fun and I speak from experience. Let me get your vitals, then I'll have Dr. Reese come in and check you over."

"I'm fine," Sarah grumbled. "Can I have my clothes back?" She tugged at the front of the hospital gown, which was gaping. It was one-size-fits-most and it didn't fit her at all.

"No," Dee said firmly. "Be quiet and give me your arm."

A few minutes later, she proclaimed, "Your blood pressure's fine, your heart rate is fine, your temperature is fine."

"Told you I was fine. Now can I have my clothes back?"

"No." Dee studied her. "Did Jim tell you what happened?"

"Sort of."

Between the two of them, they filled her in.

"Your leg was field dressed when you got here but the gunshot was a secondary concern," Dee said. "They were more worried about why you wouldn't wake up. We had to cut your pants off to dress your leg and I don't think you want them back." She got a puzzled look on her face, as if she suddenly remembered something. "Just a minute." She vanished around the screen.

"I'm not going anywhere," Sarah said dryly.

Dee was back a minute later, carrying a small paper envelope.

"Give me your hand," she said, opening the flap. "This was in your pants pocket. Or this is what's left of it."

Dee poured shattered jade crystals onto her palm. It was the sea glass Jim had given her the last time she'd seen him. She'd taken to carrying it as a token, transferring it from one pair of pants to the next, along with her pocketknife and other bits of miscellaneous gear. She touched the pieces with her index finger, rolling the shards back and forth.

"The medic thinks it deflected the bullet just enough to keep it from going into your thigh. It could have hit your femoral artery and you'd have bled out in less than a minute." Dee swallowed. "As it was, it just grazed the surface of your leg. Sarah, I don't know what this stuff is, but I think it saved your life."

"Mermaids' tears," Sarah said quietly.

"What?" Dee said.

"You've been carrying that in your pocket all this time?" Jim looked at her.

"Yeah. It reminds me of you." She raised her chin, daring him to laugh. "You got a problem with that?"

"Nope." She could tell he was pleased. She slid the shattered green glass back into the envelope and looked around for a place to put it.

"I'll take it, darlin', I think you've used up all the luck in it." Jim folded the envelope and tucked it into a pocket of his flight suit.

Dee looked at both of them like they had horns. She thought Kate and Greg's relationship was the least likely romance she'd ever encountered but whatever was going on between Sarah and Jim might even trump that.

"I should change the bandage on your leg." She looked at Jim. "Out."

"No," Sarah said, shaking her head, then wincing. "He can stay. I want him to stay."

Dee raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything. She'd been friends with Kate long enough to know better than to argue with a Cameron. She lifted the sheet.

Too late, Sarah realized the reason Dee had wanted Jim to leave was because she was completely naked under the hospital gown. With a yelp, she fumbled the gown down far enough to ensure modesty, although at this point, she wasn't sure why she bothered. Dee gave her an I-told-you-so-look and pulled the bandage off her thigh.

The bullet had dug a bloody furrow that angled across her outer thigh down toward her knee. Just at the height of Raider's head. Sarah swallowed hard. Dark spots danced around the edges of her vision. She shut her eyes. A hand closed over hers and she gripped it tightly.

"You're not like Kate, are you?" Jim asked. "You're not going to pass out at the sight of your own blood? At least you're already in the hospital."

"No." Sarah opened her eyes. "I'm okay. Blood doesn't bother me, it doesn't matter whose it is. Just . . . " Her voice went soft with introspection. "It could have been Raider . . . you know."

"I know, Red," he said quietly. "But he's all right. And you're all right, even though you're a little beat up."

Dr. Reese stepped up to the bedside.

"Welcome back to the war," he said. "Glad you decided to join us again."

"It was against my better judgment," Sarah muttered. "Why does my head hurt so bad?"

Reese didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a pen light and checked her pupils, tested her reflexes, listened to her heart and asked her a series of what Sarah thought were relatively obvious questions.

"Sarah Elizabeth Cameron. Roosevelt - Franklin not Teddy. It's November 1943 – I have no idea what day it is but I didn't know that before I hit my head, either. Can I get dressed now?"

"I'll release you but I'm not signing off for you to return to active duty," the doctor said. "As of now, you're on a week's medical leave. I want you to stay close enough that I can monitor your concussion. You need to rest and let your body heal."

"Looks like I'm stuck here," she said.

"You'll do anything to spend time with me." Jim grinned.

"Don't get used to it. I don't plan to get shot on a regular basis."

"Why don't you go find Kate," Dee told him. "Tell her Sarah's back among the living and see if she can bring some clothes." Dee left.

Jim stood. He bent over and kissed Sarah on the forehead. She thought his lips lingered there just a little longer than was strictly necessary, given the circumstances. Oh hell.

She grasped the collar of his flight suit and pulled him down. His mouth found hers without hesitation, stubble rasping against her skin in a kiss that knocked everything else out of her mind. He'd been there for her when she woke up. Not her sister. Not a nurse assigned to watch her. _He'd_ been there. Her heart soared. Sarah suspected this was not what Dr. Reese would have called "resting."

 **XXX**

"Thank you," she said, when he pulled back. He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers twined with hers. The color had come back into her cheeks and as he studied the rose gold of her skin he realized the cold lump that had been pressing against his heart all night was gone.

"For kissing you? The pleasure was all mine."

"Don't be so sure of that. Just . . . thank you . . . for being here." She wrinkled her nose. "You smell like airplane exhaust."

"You can't get enough of me, can you, Red?"

She didn't answer right away, her eyes gone that misty green-gray that reminded him of the ocean after a storm. She was biting her lip. Her fingers tightened on his.

"I love you, Jim."

She said it so softly he wasn't sure he heard her. The look on her face was defiant, daring him to be less than honest with his reply.

The response was forming automatically on his lips when he stopped. He'd said it to girls before but love was usually a transient condition, based on the circumstances of the moment. Now, it hit him with all the impact of a rough landing, releasing an adrenaline jolt that wrenched his gut into knots and made his heart pound.

He loved her.

He'd realized it the night she found out the other boys were betting on when he was going to sleep with her, that night when he would have given anything to see trust in her eyes again, not suspicion.

Seeing her in that hospital bed last night, not knowing if she was coming back in spite of Doc Reese's assurances, had left him with an aching hollowness in his heart. This war didn't owe either one of them a tomorrow, but there were things he could say today.

"I love you, too, Sair." His voice was for her ears only amid the bustle of the waking hospital. The endearment rolled off his tongue with unexpected ease. He'd heard Kate use it before but always felt it was a familiarity reserved for the two sisters, off limits to anyone else. It had come to him as naturally as breathing.

Her eyes widened and her breath caught. Clearly, she hadn't expected him to say it back. She swallowed.

"I may have hit my head but I mean it." Her voice trembled but her eyes were intense.

He wrapped his arms around her. "I mean it, too. And I've hit my head more times than you. Darlin', you're one of a kind. I love you."

It was easier to say it the second time. Saying it wove a tapestry of unlimited potential between them.

She nestled against his chest and there was no war, no uncertainty, just the two of them, together. He stroked the back of her head, enjoying the feel of her hair under his hand, her heart beating against his.

"I'm glad you're in one piece, Red."

"So am I." Her face was still burrowed against his flight suit, her words muffled. She tipped her head back, a smile curving her lips.

"Would you ask Kate to find me some clothes so I can get out of here? Looks like I'm a guest of the Black Sheep. Again."

 **XXX**

Sarah watched him leave, then collapsed back onto the pillows. Emotions chased through her mind like clouds on the wind. She pressed her fingers against aching temples. Somewhere between that night on Rendova when she stopped saying no to him and the day she slugged Jeannie for trying to claim him as hers, she'd gone and fallen in love with Jim Gutterman.

Why had she said it? She hadn't intended to. You couldn't take it back once you said it out loud, not that she wanted to. It was like getting hit on the head had loosened the words and they just rolled right out of her mouth. What in the world was her heart thinking, giving itself to a fighter pilot with a reputation for trouble?

The only reassuring thing about saying it out loud was finding out he felt the same way, which didn't necessarily make anything easier.

For a farm girl from North Dakota, life in the South Pacific was getting more complicated by the minute.

 **XXX**

Kate arrived at the hospital 30 minutes later.

"Every time you show up here, you end up borrowing my stuff," she said, tossing a bundle of folded clothing on the foot of Sarah's bed. "If you'd ever make plans to come here on purpose, you could bring your own clothes with you."

"I'm happy to see you, too," Sarah said brightly. "Now you can help me get dressed." She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and her head swam. She swayed. Kate grabbed one arm and Dee grabbed the other. Together they got her upright. Dee pulled the privacy screens closed. The other occupants of the ward might be injured but they weren't blind.

Kate hugged her and Sarah saw her sister's eyes were bright with tears.

"I'm glad you're all right," Kate said, pushing her back to arm's length and lightly touching the bruise on her temple. "You had us worried for a while. Especially Jim."

"Really?" Sarah kept her voice neutral.

"You know he spent all night in that chair?" Dee said, handing her underthings.

"All night?" Sarah shed the hospital gown and pulled on the underclothes. She couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"Yeah. We tried to get him to leave but he wouldn't. He sat here all night because he didn't want you to be alone when you woke up. He didn't even fly today's mission."

"Are you serious?" She shook out the trousers and looked at Kate. "Hey, these aren't yours. They don't have nearly enough holes in them."

Kate shrugged.

"They're Boyle's. Jim made me go back to the base last night, he said he'd stay with you. You're smiling an awful lot for someone who has a concussion. Dee, are you sure she's okay to leave?"

"Boyle's - what the hell! I can't wear Bobby's pants! Greg was okay with Jim missing the mission?" The she added, "And I'm smiling because I'm happy to be alive."

"Yeah, he was fine with it. They only went up with 12 birds anyway. Why can't you wear Boyle's pants? You're as tall as he is. They'll fit you fine. I don't have any to spare."

"Did you just waltz in and ask to borrow his trousers?" She eased them gingerly over the bandage on her leg and did up the buttons on the fly. They fit her as well as any military fatigues were likely to.

Kate looked sheepish.

"Not exactly."

"How exactly?"

"I may have borrowed them off his clothesline."

"Kate!" Sarah eased the T-shirt over her head and sank, exhausted, back onto the bed. Her head was pounding. Her leg was throbbing. She felt as weak as a day old kitten. She was wearing stolen pants. Jim loved her. She'd never been happier in her life.

 **XXX**

Sarah spent the next week on La Cava. The pain meds Dr. Reese had prescribed knocked her out for most of the first few days. She often woke to find Kate, Jim, Greg or one of the other Black Sheep keeping an eye on her.

"Do I look like I need a babysitter?" she asked Jim when she woke halfway through the second day to find him sitting with his feet on Kate's desk, scratching Meatball with one hand and reading a stateside paper with the other.

"Doc said you weren't to be left unattended for the first 72 hours," he said. "So we're taking turns. Honestly darlin', I'm not sure you should ever be left unattended."

"I think you're taking more than just your turn." She'd yawned and gone back to sleep.

Once the headache faded, she joined life on the base. She helped Kate in the darkroom. She missed Raider and in turn, taught Meatball a series of new tricks, including how to retrieve whatever object she was pointing at. This was good for laughs when she spent an evening in the Sheep Pen signaling him to fetch the men's hats when they weren't looking.

When Anderson saw her doodling Corsairs on scrap paper from the ops shack, he produced a sketchpad and she amused herself for hours, drawing the Black Sheep. She and Jim walked on the beach and played poker in the evenings. When she beat Greg, he told Jim she had clearly recovered and didn't need such close supervision any more. He was laughing when he said it.

Several evenings, she and Jim parked in a jeep in the back row and watched outdoor movies with the rest of the personnel. Sarah couldn't have told anyone what the movies were about if they had asked.

"Geez you two, get a room!" Anderson hissed the second night. Sarah thought this wasn't exactly justified, since their clothes were still on, although she was breathing a little harder than sitting in a jeep watching a movie really called for.

 **XXX**

On the day Doc Reese gave her medical clearance to return to active duty, Casey announced plans for a bonfire on the beach that night. It was for no other reason except the boys had managed to collect an absurd amount of driftwood and Greg told them to burn it because if they let it get any bigger, they would be able to see the fire in Tokyo.

In high spirited groups, Black Sheep and nurses carrying blankets and bottles trickled down to the beach at sunset.

"Come sit with me, Red," Jim patted the blanket next to him. Sarah folded herself into his embrace, conscious of the knowing glances coming her way from Bobby Boyle and Don French. She wondered who had this week in their damned bet. She decided she didn't care.

Kate and Greg tossed a blanket down near them. Greg passed a bottle of Scotch, someone lit the bonfire and the party was on.

Conversation began as collective story telling and gradually shifted to more intimate conversations between small groups, then individuals. Couples faded away, headed for the outer regions of the beach or the nurses' quarters. Greg and Kate left quietly. Casey and Dee were already gone.

Sarah was sitting between Jim's legs, her back pressed against him, his arms around her shoulders. She watched the fire burn down as his mouth teased along her ear. She breathed deep, inhaling his scent – soap, aftershave, something that reminded her of leaves in autumn that was just _him_. Her mind was tumbling in several directions, exploring possibilities. It was always like that when he touched her, the rest of the world blurring at the edges until it was just the two of them.

She turned to meet his mouth with hers, heat coursing through her. His lips trailed down her neck and he pulled the collar of her shirt open to kiss her throat. Across from them, on the other side of the fire, Bobby and Ellen were doing the same thing. Bobby was slowly unbuttoning Ellen's shirt as they kissed.

Sarah looked away, guilty about intruding on their privacy, albeit accidentally. Again.

"Should we go somewhere else?" she said, the tilt of her head indicating the activity nearby. "I feel like a third wheel."

Jim glanced across the fire.

"Yeah, sure. Although I don't think it's going to bother them one way or the other." He stood and pulled her to her feet. Shaking out the blanket, he wrapped an arm around her waist and they headed down the beach.

They walked without talking. When they'd gone far enough that the bonfire was only a soft glow in the distance, Jim stopped. They were at the place where the beach turned and wrapped back to the north, creating at least an illusion of privacy.

"Is this your spot?" Sarah kept her voice light.

"It is tonight."

She wondered how many other girls he'd brought here, but put it firmly out of her mind. He spread the blanket out and they both kicked off their boots. She sat, leaning into him, his arm around her shoulders. Above them, the moon was golden and full of promise.

"Do you know how long I've wanted you to come out here with me?" he asked.

"I've known you for three months," she said, "so I'm guessing three months."

"Smart ass."

The heat of his body licked across hers like flame as he pressed her down onto the blanket. Her lips parted to invite his tongue and the kiss deepened with just an edge of roughness. His mouth was intoxicating as he tangled his fingers in her hair, baring her neck.

Sarah slid a cautious hand down his back and pulled his shirt loose. She let her fingers stroke the bare skin of his lower back, smiling as she felt his breath catch in surprise. Clearly he hadn't expected that. She cupped his hip, keeping her touch light. He groaned, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

"I've wanted your hands on me like that for months." His voice was rough against her neck. "Every time I watch you with Raider, I'm so damned jealous of that dog because your hands are all over him."

"Do you want me to rub your ears?" She was on shaky ground and she knew it.

"Darlin', you can rub anything you want."

Damnit. He was doing it again, bringing her to the point of recklessness with only a few words. She embraced the rush of it as he explored the contours of her body. His hands were as warm and supple as she remembered from the night on Rendova.

Jim slowly undid the buttons of her shirt, letting his fingers trace the skin between each one. He tugged the fabric back and kissed her throat, then lower. Her breath caught as his mouth lingered between her breasts. She twisted her hands in his hair, reveling in sensation. He pushed the cloth over her shoulders and she shifted to let him pull the shirt free.

Her fingers moved with unaccustomed boldness on the buttons of his shirt and she flattened her palms against his smooth chest. She inhaled his scent, tasted his skin, felt him against her lips. He shrugged out of his shirt and, rolling onto his side, pulled her to him. His smile was almost tangible in the moonlight. It was that good old boy smile, full of promise, the one she'd been fighting for months.

Jim's hand cupped her breast, his fingers hot through the thin silk. She'd been borrowing Kate's clothes all week. For as much as this bra covered, she might as well not have bothered. She swallowed hard, trembling, as he slid the straps over her shoulders and tugged the lace down. She could feel the heat from his body radiating against hers.

"You're gorgeous, Sarah," he whispered. "God, you're perfect."

She stifled a moan and pressed against his fingers as sensation coursed through her, her nipples gone hard and tender at the same time. He pushed her back down onto the blanket, one hand flat against the plane of her belly, his mouth grazing her breast. Her heart was pounding.

His hand moved lower, easing along her inner thigh, against the hem of her shorts. Liquid heat surged through her. His fingers stroked upward over the fabric, a feather's touch, caressing her _there,_ and her body shuddered against his. His hand lingered briefly, teasing, then was gone. She was aching for him now, wanting to feel all of him against her bare skin, not just his hands. He toyed with the top button on her shorts. It refused to give. She quivered, unable to be still, uncertain if she should help or just let him deal with it.

"Do you want me to stop?" His lips brushed hers.

"No."

"No, don't stop? Or no, stop?" There was an undercurrent of humor in his voice. Did he actually think she could talk right now? In answer, she kissed him, knowing he had to feel the molten heat building inside her.

He worked the button loose and moved to the next one. A second button opened, then a third. His fingers brushed across the silk edge of her panties, started to slip under. Her breath caught and she tensed involuntarily. He paused.

"All right?"

"Yes." Breathless. Finally, she had to tell him. "It's just . . . I've never done this before." There. She'd said it.

His hand slid up to caress her belly, driving her need with every rough, warm touch.

"Never done this outdoors?" His mouth was buried against her neck.

"No." She twisted her head to meet his eyes. "Never done this anywhere."

 **XXX**

"You've never . . . you're a virgin?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Yes." She sounded slightly offended. "Is that a bad thing?"

Jim buried his face in the curve of her neck and struggled for coherent thought. No. It wasn't. If anything it made him want her even more and that was saying quite a bit. They were so closely entwined she had to feel how badly he wanted her – she might be innocent but she wasn't naïve.

"No. It's not a bad thing at all." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. The soft, willing heat of her body was pushing him toward the point of no return. If he didn't stop now, he wouldn't be able to. It would be so easy, so satisfying, at least for him, to take that body he'd dreamed of since the first time he saw her.

It came to him in a flash of almost painful clarity.

No.

This was not going to happen on the beach. Not her first time. He wouldn't do that do her.

How the hell was he going to explain it? Making love on a blanket on the sand sounded very romantic in theory and it could be extremely satisfying if both parties were adept at what they were doing. He'd proven that theory more than once.

But the beach was a public area, even allegedly secluded spots like this. They were taking a chance, being here tonight, and he knew it even if she didn't. That was part of the turn on, a sense of reverse voyeurism where both parties involved didn't care if anyone else saw what they were doing. Not that any of the boys would deliberately interrupt them. That was an unwritten code among the Black Sheep. But accidents happened and this was not the sort of thing he wanted anyone else stumbling into.

"It's not . . . we shouldn't . . . not here . . . your first time shouldn't be out here." He finally managed to put a coherent sentence together. With a supreme effort, he rolled away from her and sat up, breathing deep. "I'm sorry, darlin', let's go back to the base before I do something we'll both regret."

"I won't regret it." Those green eyes caught the moonlight, drawing him in. "You won't either."

No. He clenched his jaw. Her first time was not going to be a rough tumble on the beach. It needed to be some place where their privacy could be guaranteed, preferably behind a door with a very solid lock. And a very comfortable bed.

He knew the first time Greg slept with Kate had been on the beach but that was different. Greg had explicitly told all of them what would happen if they got interrupted. Every single one of the boys had known exactly what he and Kate were doing that night when they left the bonfire. In order to get that kind of security, he'd have to go public with his intention and he didn't feel like announcing it to the world.

"That's what I'm afraid of." He stood up and reached down for her. She was buttoning her blouse. The look of invitation and irritation on her face damn near made him change his mind. The promise of her was staggering.

He pulled her to her feet, wrapped his arms around her.

"God, I want you, Sarah," he whispered. "You are beautiful and I love you. But your first time shouldn't be out here. Trust me."

She looked up at him from under her lashes. Her mouth curved in a slow smile that nearly had him throwing his tenuous resolve to the wind. How could she make innocence look so . . . hot?

"All right then," she said softly. "I love you, too, Captain."

 **XXX**

She was a virgin.

Jim dropped down on his bunk and threw an arm over his face.

How the hell was that even possible?

The girl was gorgeous. Intelligent. Sweet. Bright. Funny. More than a little dangerous. Her face alone was enough to bring a man to his knees, never mind the rest of her. How in God's name had she not ended up in someone's bed before now?

He didn't doubt she knew how to say no and wouldn't hesitate to back it up. But there'd been no hesitation in her response tonight. She'd been ready to give herself to him, wanted him with a heat that still echoed through his body.

And he'd told her no.

Told her no and walked her back to her sister's tent and kissed her goodnight like she was 16 years old. Well, maybe not that young. What the hell had he been thinking? She'd been ripe for the taking – it should have been damn the torpedos, full speed ahead.

But he just couldn't take her there on the beach, like any of the other casual romps that had always been his style. A little lovin', a little snuggling, maybe a little more lovin', then drive the girl back to the nurses' quarters and that was that.

It was different with Sarah. He loved her. Apparently love made you do incredibly stupid things. That was some powerful shit if it could make you say no to a girl you'd spent the last three months dreaming about scoring with.

It would have been so easy. The guys would give him absolutely no end of grief if they ever found out about this.

Jim rolled off his bunk and picked up the bottle of Scotch sitting on the upturned wooden crate nearby. He twisted out the cork and started to pour into a glass, then stopped and drank straight from the bottle.

Could this get any more complicated?

It didn't bother him that she was a virgin. Hell, just thinking about that made him hard all over again. He'd slept with girls who had claimed to be virgins, although he'd had his doubts afterward. He didn't have any doubts about Sarah.

He did _not_ want to screw this up. When had sleeping with a girl turned into such a tangle?

TJ walked in, did a double-take. The girl behind him stumbled into him, giggling.

"Hey, bunky, didn't expect to see you back here tonight," TJ said cheerfully, wrapping his arms around the blonde's waist. "Figured you'd be somewhere on the beach with Sarah tonight. Or was it just a quickie?"

Jim didn't answer. He set the bottle down and stalked out.

 **XXX**

In Kate's tent, alone, Sarah laughed out loud at the irony. She'd spent three months telling him no and on the night she said yes, he told her no. She let a hand trail over the edge of her bunk to scratch Raider's head. She'd gone to get the big dog from his kennel after Jim walked her back from the beach. Dogs were so much easier to understand than men.

Jim hadn't exactly said no. He'd said not on the beach. And it had been clear he wanted her. She'd seen the struggle on his face, felt his hard length pressing against her. She wasn't sure what the difference was between making love on the beach or making love on a bed but she was willing to admit he knew more about it than she did. And he'd thought it was important. Important enough that he'd acted the gentleman and left her with a kiss goodnight and a lot of raw emotions. She sighed and rolled onto her stomach.

Raider growled quietly as a knock sounded against the tent frame.

"Sarah?" It was Jim. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Her voice was hesitant in the dark. She saw his outline step through the door. "Do you think that's a good idea? This tent isn't any more private than the beach."

"No," he said honestly. "But TJ's, um, entertaining and I don't have anywhere to sleep."

"Kate probably won't be back until morning. You can sleep in her – what are you doing?"

Jim kicked off his boots and in one easy move, stretched out on Sarah's bunk and pulled her down with him.

"Damnit, I'm going to sleep with you one way or another," he said. "Quit wiggling or I won't be responsible for anything that might happen."

Dear God, he was serious.

"Do you think you can just walk in here and climb into my bed and I'll let you?" She wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel the heat of his bare skin against hers again. No. This was not a good idea.

"Yes."

"Then I'll go sleep in Kate's – " she started to get up. He threw a leg over her. She couldn't move.

"You will not." He buried his face in her hair. "You smell wonderful. I want to spend this night with you. I don't know when I'll see you again."

She kissed him, fast and hard and poked him in the chest.

"Fine. Behave yourself."

"Always do when I'm around you, darlin'."

She relaxed against him, conscious of his order not to wiggle. She wasn't going to sleep a wink.

 **XXX**

The sun had just started to brush over the eastern horizon when Sarah woke, curled against Jim, her shirt rucked up and his hand splayed across her belly. She slid her own hand down to cover it, trying to ignore the tendrils of heat curling through her. This was . . . nice. And it wasn't going any further so there was no sense even thinking about it. Which was damn near impossible.

Jim's mouth on her ear told her he was awake before he said anything.

"Red, this is the second time we've woken up together and we still have all our clothes on."

She rolled onto her back.

"They're going to stay that way, too."

She looked across the tent. Kate's bed was still empty.

Jim traced a finger from her belly button to the top of her shorts.

"Stop that." She closed her hand over his. He chuckled.

"Last night you didn't want me to stop."

"I still don't but it's not going - "

Kate stepped through the tent's mosquito netting.

"Well, this is awkward," she said.

"It's not how it looks." Sarah sat up, pulling her T-shirt down, and swung her feet to the floor.

"I think it's exactly how it looks," Kate mused, her voice ripe with humor. "My little sister is waking up with one of the renegade Black Sheep." She was clearly enjoying herself. Kate tipped her head to one side. "Except you both have all your clothes on. Didn't anyone tell you kids that's not how it works?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Katie, nothing happened." Jim said.

She smirked.

"Yeah. Sure."

Jim grinned at her.

"You look like you got some lovin'," he said, wrapping an arm around Sarah and pulling her back down against him. She didn't resist. "Another night on the beach with Greg? You're gonna be the death of that man, Katie."

"Out, Gutterman!" Kate couldn't mask her smile. "Out. Go. Raider thinks you should leave now."

At the sound of his name, Raider stood up and looked around hopefully. He'd thought it odd when the man came to the tent last night and laid down with _his_ woman but it seemed to make her happy so he was all right with it. Now there were a lot of odd emotions floating around on the air and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Humans were complicated and it was a full time job keeping up with their mating rituals.

"I can see no good is going to come of me staying here," Jim said. He kissed the back of Sarah's neck and slapped her on the hip. "Let me up, darlin', I've got a mission to fly."

They untangled themselves, Jim kissed her again and left, whistling "As Time Goes By."

 **XXX**

"Are you going to tell me about it?" Kate asked, when Jim disappeared around the corner. "You don't have to, if you don't want to, but geez, it's taken you two long enough and that usually means it's pretty damn good when – "

"Kate, I mean it, we didn't . . ." Sarah interrupted. "We were on the beach . . . but . . ." she broke off, frustrated, then blurted, "he said my first time should be somewhere nicer than the beach."

Kate dropped the clothes she was pulling from her trunk and stared at her. Honest surprise reflected in her gray eyes.

"Your first time? You're still a virgin?"

"A little louder!" Sarah snapped. "I don't think the whole base heard you."

"Oh, God, Sarah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . ." Kate looked genuinely at a loss for words.

"Don't worry about it. That was pretty much the same response I got from Jim. And then he said it wasn't going to happen on the beach and he walked me back here. Only TJ showed up at their tent with a nurse and Jim obviously couldn't stay there so he came over here and we . . . slept."

"Let me get this right." Kate pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're telling me Jim told you no . . . because you've never done it before?"

"He said the first time we did . . . it should be somewhere . . . nicer."

"This is Jim we're talking about?"Kate looked so absolutely stunned, Sarah had to laugh.

Kate took a deep breath and shook her head.

"I don't know what you've done to that man."

"Nothing! Haven't you been listening?"

Kate looked at her watch.

"Here's what we're going to do. We're going to have breakfast – good luck with that, by the way, you have no idea what you're in for –"

"But we didn't –" Sarah protested.

Kate shook her head.

"Doesn't matter. Perception is reality with these boys. You left the bonfire with Jim, you woke up together this morning. They'll add two and two and get eight every time."

Sarah groaned. She didn't really care if the Black Sheep knew about her and Jim – Kate had told her a dozen times there were no secrets on this base – but it seemed a little unfair to be judged for intentions rather than actions.

Kate picked up where she'd left off.

"Then after they take off, you and I are going to sit down and have a long talk."

Sarah made a face at her sister.

"Katie, Mama told me about the birds and the bees. I know how babies are made."

"Oh, do you now?" Kate gave her a slow smile and raised her eyebrows. "She told me too, but trust me, she left out a few things."


	9. Chapter 9

_(Editor's note: Keep an eye on the datelines that start appearing on some of the sub-sections. The chapters of this story are going to start mirroring "Autumn 1945," only as told from Jim and Sarah's viewpoint, instead of Greg and Kate's. I'm writing this as an independent story but if you've read "Autumn," you'll start seeing some nuances of things to come.)_

 **Chapter 9: Matters of the heart  
**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

 **Later that same morning**

Jim looked up from his coffee as Sarah and Kate entered the mess. Around him, the men's breakfast conversation slowed, then stopped completely. He could have heard a pin drop. Then somebody wolf whistled and a round of applause broke out. Typical. He remembered the same thing happening the morning Kate walked into breakfast after she and Greg left a party at the Sheep Pen together. They both swore nothing happened that night but it hadn't really mattered the next morning. The boys loved a happy ending, even if it was only in their imagination.

Sarah met his eyes, head high, and her smile was for him alone. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled. He thought she looked every bit as incredible as she had the night before in the moonlight. He grinned back, knowing every eye in the tent was on them.

"Morning, Captain." Her voice was silk.

"Morning, Sergeant." He lifted his coffee mug in acknowledgement and matched her smile.

"Hey, Gutterman, thanks for letting me and Carol have the tent last night," TJ called. "Hope you found other accommodations."

"That wasn't a problem, was it, Jim?" Don chimed in. "Boyle said he saw you leaving Kate's tent this morning and that was after he saw Pappy and Kate come up from the beach at dawn, so I'm guessing you and Sarah had it to yourselves all night." His emphasis on the last two words was unmistakable.

There was some more appreciative whooping.

"Maybe if Boyle had woken up in his own bed, he wouldn't be lurking around, keeping track of where everyone else is sleeping," Jim snarled, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face. There was no sense trying to explain they'd slept fully clothed, his arms wrapped around her, and he knew it. Apparently she knew better than to argue, too. That was a good thing. Protests of innocence would only add fuel to the fire.

Greg walked in, helped himself to coffee.

"Who's keeping track of where everyone else is sleeping?" he asked. "That's a full-time job with you meatheads." He shot an inquiring glance at Jim, who didn't say anything, just answered with a lazy grin. Getting no further response, he put an arm around Kate's waist and squeezed her close. She leaned into him, a private smile on her face. Jim noticed Sarah's older sister had long since abandoned any pretense of denial when it came to her physical relationship with Greg. They didn't go overboard with public displays of affection but they didn't hide it, either.

He wondered how Sarah was going to handle being under the microscope that was the Black Sheep when they got wind of a consummated relationship. Never mind nothing had happened last night. Oh hell, who was he kidding. Something had happened all right. The feel of her skin still hummed against his fingers, her scent lingered in his mind.

He shook himself mentally. Once the guys got something in their collective heads, they were like dogs with a bone, refusing to give it up until the last bit of good had been chewed out of it. They usually weren't subtle, either. He found himself feeling a little guilty for the degree of teasing he'd subjected both Greg and Kate to when they first hooked up.

Sarah set her tray down across from Jim and slid onto the bench.

"Did you sleep well last night, Captain?" she asked formally. The look on her face was pure innocence. The guys were hanging on her every word and she knew it.

"I certainly did, Sergeant, the accommodations were excellent. And yourself?" He answered with all the formality of a Southern gentleman.

"I slept delightfully. Although I miss my 400 thread count sheets. And I think the housekeeping staff has been a little lax in my sister's quarters."

"If you're looking for room service, I bet Jim could deliver anything you need," TJ called from behind her.

"She's got a fetching glow about her, so I'm guessing he already has," Bobby Anderson added.

"Hey, Sarah," TJ said, "you must have really delivered last night cuz I've never seen Gutterman look so happy this early in the morning."

Sarah turned her head slowly and pinned him with a cool, green stare.

"Fuck off, TJ," she said pleasantly.

The men broke up laughing and the mess returned to its normal chaotic volume.

Yeah, Jim thought, she'd handled that just fine.

 **XXX**

An hour later, Sarah walked to the flight line with Jim and the rest of the squadron. The roar of the Corsairs' powerful engines split the tropical morning air and mechanics and pilots yelled back and forth as they prepped for the day's mission.

"I'll be gone when you get back," she said. "There's a C-47 coming in at 0900 on the way to Rendova. I'll be on it when it leaves. Guess I gotta get back to the war. Raider misses me."

He turned, gloves in hand. His eyes were hot and dark and Sarah wished she wasn't leaving. Again. It seemed all her time was spent dropping in unexpectedly and leaving before she was ready.

"Take care of yourself, Red." He tipped her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and held the promise of somewhere dark and quiet, somewhere time didn't matter. There were a few catcalls from the passing men and he broke off the embrace. "I'll see ya when I see ya."

She grinned, still feeling the echoe of that kiss.

"I love you, too, Captain."

He winked and was gone.

 **Dec. 21, 1943**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry HQ**

Sarah's 21st birthday on the winter solstice passed almost without notice. Eddie and Charlie found out about it and there had been an off-key chorus of "Happy Birthday" when she walked into evening mess, then they'd drug her over to the Gryphon's Nest for a round of drinks. She hadn't minded. She loved the men like they were brothers. After the sniper incident on La Cava, Eddie had put two and two together that she was involved with one of the Black Sheep and a great deal of good-natured teasing had ensued. Several of the Gryphons of the 149th fighter wing still pursued her with enthusiasm but it was more of a game between them than anything serious and they knew it.

A small package was lying on her bunk when she got back from the Gryphon's Nest. She recognized Kate's handwriting immediately and tore open the wrapping. Inside was a small silk bag with a folded letter. Sarah opened the letter and read:

 _Dear Sarah,_

 _Happy birthday! I hope your 21_ _st_ _year is full of wonderful surprises and the best of everything. Maybe it will see an end to this war and we can all go home and get back to normal. Whatever that is. I'm not sure either of us will ever really be normal again. Love and war do that to a person._

 _I'll wish you a merry Christmas now, too. I wish we could be together again for the holidays. Last year I was in England with the RAF and you were building bombers in California. I wonder what the new year will bring?_

 _The Black Sheep are pounding the hell out of Rabaul right now and Greg expects they'll even be flying a mission on Christmas Day. I know your prayers are joining mine that our boys come back safely each time._

 _Greg has put in for R and R for the unit on Espritos between Christmas and New Year's. God knows they're not going to get much of a break otherwise. Can you join us? We'll all be happy to see you. Some more than others. TJ says Jim talks in his sleep and I gather your name comes up a lot._ (She'd drawn a smiley face in the margin.)

Sarah could read the smirk in her sister's careful writing as clearly as if she were standing in the same room. She rolled her eyes.

 _Sarah, there's something important I need to talk to you about, and it could change everything I'm doing here, but I can't put it in a letter and I'm not even sure yet myself, so it will have to wait. Maybe if I see you on Espritos we can talk about it then. If not, please add me to your prayer list, too, because if what I think is true, is true, I'm going to need a lot of them. But keep Jim and Greg and all the Sheep at the top of the list. If anyone ever needed divine intervention to keep them in one piece, it's them._

Sarah paused, frowning. It was unlike Kate to be hesitant about anything. What did she mean, _I'm not even sure yet myself_? Kate was one of the most self-assured people she knew. She shook her head and kept reading. Her sister's next words knocked any previous concern right out of her mind.

 _Okay, Sair, the enclosed is probably a totally inappropriate birthday present, but I figure it's okay coming from me. It would be more appropriate coming from Jim, but I doubt he's the type to buy this sort of thing, even if he could. He'll probably enjoy it just as much as you and maybe more._ (Another smiley face.)

 _Trust me, there's only so much lingerie a girl needs in a war zone. I only wore these once and not for very long. They were gifted to me from Laura H., who thought I needed them, but Greg likes black lace better (I am sure you wanted to know that) so they're just taking up room in my trunk and I suspect you can put them to better use_ (smiley face number three – her sister was positively enjoying herself) _if you and Jim ever, well . . . whatever . . . and NO, I am not in on that bet! In fact, I think the boys have kind of given it up since Jim has pounded the daylights out of both Boyle and French for pestering him about it._

 _The week you were at La Cava after you got shot was French's week for the bet and he kept trying to collect and Jim kept telling him it wasn't any of his damn business, especially after your last night there. You know what those boys are like. It finally ended up in a brawl after you left. Greg had to break it up and it nearly put all three of them in the infirmary. It's a good thing men have such hard heads. They are always getting knocked together around here._

 _The stockings are from Jim. The boys ended up with a whole case of them in one of their black market deals and he asked me to send a pair along for you when I said I was sending you a birthday gift. Don't worry, I did not tell him WHAT I was sending you. I figure he'll see it sooner or later. Really, Sarah, I'm surprised the two of you have waited this long but honestly, it's better your first time wasn't on the beach. I guess we talked about that. Good luck finding somewhere the two of you can truly enjoy each other in private. Nothing takes your mind off the war like a night in the arms of a man you love._

 _I imagine your face matches your hair by now so I will sign off and let you unwrap your present._

 _Love, your sis,_

 _Katie_

 _PS. Greg says hello. He thinks you're good for Jim, although he'd probably never tell you that.  
_

 _PPS. Meatball misses you and Raider both._

Sarah cautiously opened the drawstring on the pouch and tipped the contents onto her bunk. A pair of silk stockings slid out, followed by a swirl of white lace that resolved itself into a stylishly cut bra and panties. Sarah shook them out and held them at arm's length. Good lord. For no more than they were going to cover, she might as well not bother. She remembered a conversation with Kate, Dee and Laura regarding the relative importance of lingerie. At the time, she'd written it off as inconsequential. Suddenly, it became a whole lot more relevant.

She laughed at the irony. She was 21 years old and still wearing her sister's hand-me-downs. So Greg preferred black lace over white. She really did _not_ need to know that. She also knew Kate had gained most of her decent lingerie from one of the nurses who had an extensive collection of the stuff and was happy to donate to the cause. She supposed she should thank Laura, too, the next time she saw her.

Shaking her head, Sarah carefully folded the garments and tucked them back into the bag. She had no idea when she'd have the occasion to wear anything like that but she had to hand it to Kate – she was looking out for her little sister's best interests, in a manner of speaking. Sarah wouldn't go to the proverbial ball wearing rags.

No, she thought, I'll go wearing lingerie that has more experience than I do.

 **XXX**

On Christmas Eve day, Eddie breezed past Sarah's tent door and sent a small box winging onto the mountain of paperwork on her desk.

"Something for ya from La Cava!" he yelled in passing.

"Thanks, Eddie!" Sarah caught it just before it skittered off the edge. Her heart leaped at Jim's familiar slanting scrawl. They'd written to each other a few times, sharing the little bits of personal news that made up their days while the war crawled inexorably forward. It had been three weeks since Dr. Reese had signed off on her medical leave and she'd launched back into active duty. Three weeks since they'd seen each other.

It was always a thrill to see his words on paper. For a guy who really wasn't big on conversation, she thought he wrote with surprising eloquence. She could picture him sitting in his tent, writing this letter, threatening TJ with bodily harm for teasing him about it. He'd never do it in the Sheep Pen. She knew the boys wouldn't give him any peace there. In a unit where romances were fragile things when both parties lived on the same island, he was doing the unimaginable, carrying on not only a steady relationship but a long distance one at that.

She opened the box and extracted a letter. There was a second, smaller box under it.

 _Dear Sair,_

She broke into a grin at his use of her nickname. It had sounded so natural on his lips that day in the hospital. Unexpected but right. Like him.

 _Miss you, darlin'. Katie tells me this was your golden birthday – 21 on the 21st. I wish I could have been there to celebrate with you. I trust you received the stockings. Katie assured me she would enclose them with her gift to you although she was so damned cagey she would not tell me what she was giving you, just said you would show me some time. Your sister is a real piece of work._

 _We're all headed to Espritos on Dec. 28 for 24-hour leave. It sure would be good to see you again if you can arrange to get away. It isn't much but that's all they'll give us. Lard wants us pounding on Tojo, not drinking our way through the officers' club. He's got us hitting Rabaul like there's no tomorrow. I got a bad feeling about that place, Red. We're spread too thin and boys are gonna start not coming home. We're all exhausted and Tojo's got some damn good pilots guarding that rock. We aren't getting the fresh meat right out of flight school any more._

 _But Greg convinced Lard we'd do a better job if we were well rested. Not sure how much rest any of this bunch of yahoos will get in 24 hours but we'll make the most of it. Last time we were there, half the squadron ended up in the brig. Yeah, you know which half I was in._

 _Your sister will be joining us, pretending to be Lt. Halvorson again. She's spent so much time in that Navy uniform it's a wonder she isn't drawing pay. I don't know how that girl has managed to keep her identity a secret from Lard this long and they've even met face to face a couple of times._

 _This present is for your birthday and Christmas. It's not anything fancy and you deserve better but shopping is a little limited here. The wire is out of a wiring harness from the Corsair boneyard here. The stone, well, you'll recognize it. It took longer to make than I expected, that's why I didn't get it to you in time for your birthday. I won't tell you how many times I burned my fingers on the damned soldering iron. It was made for fixing airplanes, not for this sort of thing. I can tell you one thing, Red, when this war is over I don't plan on taking up jewelry making as a career._

Her interest had reached the boiling point. She dropped the letter and pulled out the small box. Untying the twine, she tugged the lid off. Inside, something was wrapped in a piece of cloth. She pried it out and an object rolled into her palm.

Strands of fine silver wire spiraled around a roughly faceted teardrop-shaped green stone. The wire was soldered here and there to secure the stone and a bail was affixed to the top where a chain could be added to create a pendant.

No. Not a stone. Sarah caught her breath in recognition. It was a piece of the sea glass she'd had in her trouser pocket the day she got shot on Munda. She remembered Dee pouring the pieces into her hand in the hospital, then Jim taking the envelope with them in it. Leave it to him to create something beautiful out of scraps, she mused.

Still holding the sea glass, she picked up the letter again.

 _TJ says I talk in my sleep and apparently he finds this very entertaining. I don't want to have to knock the crap out of my own wingman (again) but it may come to that if he don't shut up. I'd rather it was you hearing me talking in my sleep. But if you were that close, we wouldn't be sleeping much anyway, trust me._

She felt a rush of heat at both his boldness and the thought of spending the night in the same bed with him. While that cramped night in Kate's tent had been pleasant enough, she'd frequently given her imagination free reign on what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms in a real bed. And wake up in them. And everything that went with it.

 _Love you, Red. You're in my thoughts constantly and you make my dreams hell. See you on Espritos? I'll be waiting._

 _Jim_

She folded the letter and sat, thinking about Jim . . . and about everything that went with him.

The rays of evening sun slanted through the door of her tent and sparkled off the silver wire encasing the green glass as she turned it in her fingers. Her thoughts drifted to his touch, the feel of his mouth on her neck, that molten heat he'd ignited in her during their time on the beach.

She hadn't intentionally set out to keep her virginity this long, not like some girls she'd known who acted like their legs were welded shut while they sighed about vows and white dresses. Sarah just hadn't given it much thought. That wasn't to say the matter hadn't come up. There had been other boys and other kisses in the dark but those awkward fumbling and hesitant touches had been more irritating than arousing and it had never been a problem to say no.

Until now. Until Jim. Until she realized she didn't have a clue what she was doing. Not that that was going to stop her, she mused.

During basic training, there had been lots of late night talks in the barracks about what men and women did behind closed doors. Most of the girls were like her – innocent, curious and with little to contribute to the conversation. Some of the girls with more experience, though, were willing to talk. They sounded rather impatient with the whole process, like it was only something to be tolerated, a price paid for a boy to squire them to dances and on drives in the country. Sarah wasn't buying that.

Some of the other girls, though, smiled with quiet knowledge that wasn't meant to be shared beyond the privacy of those intimate moments before the war had torn lovers apart. Sarah found them more intriguing than the loudly spoken girls with their dramatic eye rolls and disdainful comments on boys who wanted them to do _that_.

Then there was what Kate had told her in a blunt, extremely one-sided conversation before she'd left La Cava. She'd sat, slightly dazed, while Kate told her all the things their mother had omitted from that long ago birds and bees lecture. _Don't expect shooting stars the first time. It might be uncomfortable but just relax and go with it. If you tense up, it will be worse. I'm guessing he won't take long the first time, it's better that way anyhow. After that, it really does get better. Some of that depends on the guy, some of it depends on you. It's like anything else, you have to learn what you're doing._ Sarah highly doubted it was going to be like anything else she'd learned to do.

 _A few drinks before might be a good idea but don't get smashed out of your mind – you really do need to be part of what's going on. You'll probably be sore afterward, don't worry, it goes away. Take your time, don't let him rush you. Slow is almost always better than fast, at least at first. Don't do anything you don't want to do. If you give your body to a man, he'd damn well better respect it. And Sarah, make sure he uses a condom._ There'd been something in Kate's eyes when she said that, something Sarah couldn't read.

Then it was gone and her sister was continuing her litany of instructions with her typical brisk efficiency – _Enjoy his body - give, don't just take. Learn what he likes, it works both way and it's not all about you. Well, except for the first time, then it really should be all about you. Giving pleasure is part of receiving it. It's okay to be noisy if you're in the middle of nowhere, otherwise keep a lid on it, you don't need the whole base knowing what you're doing. They probably will anyway but you don't need to advertise it. F_ _ _or God's sake, make sure you're really alone or things can get more interesting than you planned - tent flaps have ties for a reason._ The two of you will figure out the rest of it by yourselves. Sarah, I never thought I'd say this but Jim really loves you. He'll make it right._

With a firm mental shove, Sarah pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, although they refused to stay there. She sighed. She needed to go see Major Taylor about a 24-hour pass. Then it was time to keep up with correspondence.

 **XXX**

"Letter for you from Sarah, Katie!" TJ called out, winging the envelope through the door of her tent.

"Thanks, TJ," she returned, then turning in her chair to Meatball, she pointed at the envelope lying on the floor. "Get it!"

The terrier trotted over, picked up the envelope and brought it to Kate. "Good dog. Give." Meatball released the letter. She opened the tin of dog biscuits on her desk and tossed him one.

 _Dear Kate,_

 _You're right, that was the most inappropriate birthday gift ever! I can't believe you would give your little sister something like that._ _What in the world were you thinking?_ (She'd sketched a face that was both smiling and blushing. _) All right. After our chat the last time I was on La Cava, I know exactly what you were thinking. Thank you for having my best interests at heart._

 _You are the lucky one, having a hospital full of nurses to loan you whatever you need in the line of clothing. There are nothing but guys on this rock and I'm not about to borrow anything from any of them. My dress uniform just hangs here, not much call for wearing a skirt and pumps._

 _By the way, did Boyle ever figure out what happened to his pants? I am still wearing them. They do fit well and are in much better shape than anything you have ever loaned me. I suppose you could tell him I have them and he's not likely to get them back – I doubt he will come unglued since Greg or Jim could take him with one hand tied behind their backs._

 _Back to your gift - I'm sure Jim will thank you for it. I expect it is the sort of thing he would appreciate. Although I have no idea when that will happen and it's not exactly the sort of thing one should talk about in a letter anyway so don't expect a full written report if it ever does. I have enough paper work to keep up with without adding more to it._

 _Speaking of nothing but guys on this rock, Jack Harrison (you've never met him but he is the handler who took care of Raider after I got shot) has a new dog and boy, is she something else. She is a Belgian shepherd. She is out of parents who were imported to the States from Malines, Belgium, before the war. They call her the malinois variety of Belgian shepherds. I have never seen a Belgian before but after this mess is over and we all go home, I have to find one. She has power and brains and nothing stops her. Raider thinks he is in love but she will not give him the time of day._

 _I've cleared leave with Maj. Taylor and plan to meet you lot on Espritos Dec. 28. There's a transport due here that afternoon so it will probably be evening before I get there. Go ahead and start without me. I know if there is alcohol involved, you will._

 _See you then, love you,_

 _Sarah_

 **XXX**

He missed her with an ache that was almost tangible. He wanted to watch her working Raider, to see the heat build in her eyes when he touched her and to hear the humor in her voice when she told off one of the boys for crossing a line. He wanted to take her someplace private and dark and show her what that beautiful body was capable of. He could taste her mouth, feel the silk of her skin against his, feel her yield to him, her body becoming one with his. Thinking about that had caused him more than one sleepless night. TJ had finally learned to keep his mouth shut, though, which was a good thing.

But mostly, he just wanted to be around her, sharing whatever the moment brought. He'd watched Greg and Kate often enough to appreciate the ease with which they shared one another's space, the unspoken communication that passed between them. He and Sarah never seemed to be together long enough to reach that point. Or any other point.

The letter was waiting for him after the mission. He recognized her curvy, reckless handwriting instantly.

 _Dear Jim,_

 _Thank you – thank you – thank you! The pendant is beautiful. I wish I was there to kiss you for it. Sea glass and airplane wire has never looked so amazing. You have wonderful hands. Take that any way you want. I mean it._

Well, hell, he thought, that wasn't going to make sleep come any easier.

 _Thank you for the stockings, too. I can't remember what happened to the last pair I had or if I ever had a pair over here. It's been so long since I wore anything but boots and fatigues covered with dog hair I really can't remember what wearing silk stockings is like._

 _My birthday was not a huge celebration here, although Eddie and Charlie and some of the other guys made me go for a round of drinks at the Gryphon's Nest._

He felt a twinge of jealousy at this, but reminded himself she was free to drink with anyone she chose. It wasn't like she was going to sit in her tent like a nun when they weren't together.

 _Well, THEY had a round of drinks. I had two. You know me, the lightweight. Besides, someone had to be sober enough to drive their sorry asses back to the base._

 _You'll be pleased to know I haven't slugged anyone or shot anyone lately, although I almost ran over one of the 149's mechanics with a jeep last week. He's fine. He had good reflexes. Raider has bitten a few more bad guys. We have both managed to stay in one piece in the process. I don't know where they're going to send us next. Rumor has it they're sending us to clear Kolombangara after the first of the year. The K9 teams will be part of a big offensive there. I have a feeling Raid and I are going to be traveling a lot._

 _I think of you every day, Jim, and pray constantly for your safekeeping. I talked to some of the pilots from the 149 and the Rabaul missions sound brutal. I know they've flown a few of them with you and they speak very highly of the 214. They're good men at the 149 although maybe they go a little more by the book than the Black Sheep. What am I saying - everyone goes more by the book than the Black Sheep._

 _Please don't think about me when you're up there in that plane. Keep your mind on doing whatever it takes to stay alive. You're always with me, in my heart, although sometimes it's hard to make you stay there. When you end up in my dreams, I don't get any sleep. The Indians at home used to say when you wake up tired, it's because you were awake all night in someone else's dreams. If that is the case, I don't think you are getting any sleep either._ _ _I think I must be talking in my sleep, too._ Raider has woken me up a couple of times, he sticks his nose in my armpit and shoves. Effective. I am lucky I don't have to explain anything to a tent-mate._

 _I'll see you on Espritos. I figure I'll find you guys just by looking for the biggest party or the biggest fight._

 _All my love, yours,_

 _Sarah_

She'd sketched a caricature of Raider in the cockpit of a Corsair, complete with goggles and a long scarf, on the bottom of the letter.

 **XXX**

 **Dec. 24, 1943**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

"We'll go up again tomorrow. I don't like it any better than you do, but Lard is the one calling the shots, not me." Greg shuffled the recon photos into a quasi-neat stack and tossed them back onto his desk. "They're gonna keep sending us after Rabaul until something breaks. I don't know if it's going to be us or Tojo but that's the only real estate we're going to be seeing for a while."

Casey shoved out of his chair. "I'll go tell Hutch and Micklin they won't be getting any time off to decorate a Christmas tree. We're still up for R and R on the 28th, right?"

"You got it," Greg confirmed. "Make sure it's posted on the mission board."

Casey disappeared out of the tent. Jim showed no sign of leaving his chair. He topped off his whisky and studied the tumbler.

Greg recognized that look. "What's on your mind?"

"Women."

That wasn't surprising. In the months since forming the 214, he'd talked these boys down out of more trees than he could remember when it came to women. None of them were choir boys and that caused no end of trouble. On an island where women made up a relatively small percentage of the population, they seemed to cause a disproportionately large amount of problems.

Greg supposed they came to him for advice because at age 35, they considered him an expert on all things female. Some days, he thought maybe he was. Other days, he wasn't sure he knew any more about women than the boys did at age 20 or 22. He had a feeling whatever was eating at Jim had nothing to do with any of the girls on La Cava.

"You want to narrow that down?"

"Sarah."

Silence. Meatball trotted in and sprawled on Greg's bunk. Terrier looked exceptionally pleased to have it all to himself.

"Jim, you gonna tell me what's on your mind or are we just gonna sit here and drink?"

Jim took a long sip of Scotch and said, "You ever slept with a girl who's never . . ." He choose his words carefully. " . . . never been with a guy before?"

Greg looked up in surprise. Of all the possible directions he thought this conversation might go, this hadn't been one of them. He topped off his own glass.

"I thought you two . . . come on, are you honestly telling me you didn't . . . that she's never . . .?" He left the question open-ended.

"I ain't telling you nothing." Jim's wry grin said it all. "Just asking . . . to get your perspective on a few things."

Greg shook his head. He had watched the romance bloom between his executive officer and Kate's sister with the comfort level of someone watching a live grenade rolling toward him. While he thought Sarah might be one of the best things that had ever happened to Jim, he knew if things went sour between them, Kate would go after Jim like a rabid coyote for any real or perceived hurt he had caused. She was fiercely protective of Sarah, although Greg personally thought the younger Cameron could hold her own through whatever life threw at her. Both girls were a lot alike in that regard.

But so far, it was working. In fact, Jim's endless pursuit of anything in a skirt had screeched to a stop the day Sarah stepped off that transport with that big dog at her side. In spite of being stationed hundreds of miles apart, they were making a go of this relationship, although apparently not to the degree he and the rest of the boys had assumed. At least not yet.

What impressed him the most was Jim's complete reversal when it came to the Black Sheep's habit of morning-after gossip. The boys couldn't pry anything out of him beyond a few self-satisfied grins when it came to anything he and Sarah had done the night of the bonfire. This, from the guy who never held back details when it came to talking about his latest conquest. The whole squadron thrived on re-living the interludes they shared with the nurses and their conversations never lacked for detail. Either there weren't any tales to tell or Jim had finally realized there was more to enjoying a girl's company than using it to boost his ego the next day. Surprising as it was, Greg figured it had to be the latter. A guy would have to be dead not to feel the heat that sizzled between those two. There were tales Jim wasn't telling. He'd bet on it.

"Yeah. I have," he said, answering Jim's original question. "Once or twice. You?"

"I don't know as I ever have," Jim mused. "Couple of times they claimed they hadn't before, but they seemed pretty familiar with the process, if you know what I mean." He took another long drink. "Lord, Greg, I don't want to mess this up. It never mattered this much before."

Greg wondered what Sarah Cameron had done to bewitch his exec so thoroughly. He thought back to the day he'd met her sister, nearly six months ago. He'd been a goner the minute he looked into Kate's hazel gray eyes for the first time, even though it had taken him a while to realize it. Love had a way of sneaking up on you from the last place you'd expect it. He'd never have thought a virgin farm girl from North Dakota turned Army K9 handler would be the one who stole Jim Gutterman's heart but he didn't have a lot of room to talk. His relationship with Kate, who worked for the Associated Press, was damn near sleeping with the enemy by his own standards.

"Never thought taking a girl to bed would be this complicated." Jim laughed, then sobered. "So when we . . . I don't want it to just be a tumble on the beach. She deserves better."

Greg racked his brain for the right words. None of the boys had ever come to him with _this_ problem before. He'd settled disputes over guys pursuing the same girl, administered medicinal Scotch to soothe broken hearts, knocked apart fistfights that stemmed from one guy getting too friendly with another guy's girl, lectured the squadron about conduct becoming officers and gentlemen and had a few one-on-ones regarding the boys' responsibility for birth control. But this was a new one. Given his history with women, he doubted Jim was looking for advice, just a sounding board.

"As long as one of you knows what you're doing – and I presume you do - you'll be fine."

"I think I got that part figured out," Jim chuckled, his familiar confident grin back in place.

"Don't rush it. You only get one first time, so make it count. You two looked pretty cozy the night of the last bonfire, she's not going to tell you no much longer."

"She didn't tell me no that night," Jim said. "I told her no."

Greg choked on his whisky.

" _You_? Told _her_ no?" he sputtered.

"Yeah." Jim drained the contents of his glass.

"That's got to be a first. Wait, I'm gonna need more to drink." Greg reached for the bottle.

Jim's voice was edged with humor, like he couldn't believe it himself. "We were down on the beach and she wasn't exactly telling me to stop, but then she said she'd never . . . and hell, I didn't think the beach was the right place to . . . you know. So we didn't."

"God, Jim, I didn't know you had that much self-control," Greg said honestly. "And I'd put money on it Kate's had a talk with Sarah about this, so she may know more than you think. Kate is very . . . thorough."

Jim raised his eyebrows and propped his feet up.

"You gonna tell me more?"

"I'm not telling you anything. I think we're even up. You know neither one of those girls are exactly . . . shy." Greg allowed himself a smile that had Jim chuckling. Greg lifted his glass in a toast. "If Kate knew we were having this conversation about her and Sarah she'd have both of our asses."

They were still laughing when Meatball lifted his head and woofed.

"Who'd have both of your asses?" Kate's voice was bright as she swung into the tent, carrying a bottle of Scotch. "Nothing personal Jim, but I really don't want yours, no matter how nice Sarah thinks it is. Here." She set the bottle down on Greg's desk with a thump. "I need to get that out of my tent."

"Katie, you're looking lovely today." Jim tipped his hat hastily and ducked out. Greg took the most expedient route. He swept Kate into his arms, and made her forget her question.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Body and soul**

 **December 28, 1943**

 **Espritos Marcos, Allied Rear Area**

Jim sat with Greg, Kate and a couple of other Black Sheep in the officers' club on Espritos Marcos. It was early evening and although Sarah had written to say she'd arranged a 24-hour pass to join them, she hadn't arrived yet.

He almost didn't recognize her when she walked into the room. Her slender form was backlit by the late day sun as she paused in the doorway. She was wearing dress uniform, not the rough field kit he was used to seeing. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her in anything else, besides the cut-offs and shirts she borrowed from Kate. And Boyle's pants. She looked better in those than Boyle ever had.

He'd always thought she looked damned fine in whatever the Army or Marines could throw at her to wear but now, in clothes actually made for the female form, she looked spectacular. Khaki wasn't the most flattering of fabrics but the skirt and jacket sculpted her curves like they'd been custom tailored. Low-heeled pumps set off a spectacular pair of legs, sleek in silk stockings. Her hair was pinned up neatly, with a tumble of curls just brushing her neck. She looked around the room before spotting him. A smile lit her face and Jim wondered if the others could feel the heat of it or if it was just him. He rose and stepped to her side, taking the small satchel from her hand.

"Hey, darlin'. Glad you made it."

"Hey yourself." She stretched up and gave him the briefest of kisses, a brush of her lips across his that let her scent waft around him. It was the same as he remembered from the first time he'd kissed her, like sun-dried flowers dusted with spice. Several nearby men were giving her admiring glances and his answering kiss was maybe a little longer than decorum dictated. So what if he was deliberately making a claim. She didn't protest. He slid his hand to the small of her back and guided her to their table where she exchanged greetings with Kate and the other men.

"Hi, Katie! Hey, guys," she said.

"Glad you could join us," Greg welcomed her. "What are you drinking?"

Sarah laughed and Jim saw the good-humored disbelief in her eyes.

"How long have you guys been at it?" she said, taking in the array of bottles and decanters littering the table.

Casey looked at his watch.

"An hour, give or take."

"You take your R and R seriously."

"You would, too, if you'd spent the last week in a nonstop furball over Rabaul," Jim said. "You're the best thing I've seen since TJ shot that Zeke off my tail this morning. Course, he damn near took me out in the process. And you're one hell of a lot better looking." While TJ protested and everyone else laughed, Jim passed her the wine and topped off his own Scotch. "Here's to R and R with the Black Sheep, darlin'."

The party was on.

 **XXX**

Sarah studied the room with interest. Linen table cloths, crystal tumblers and stemware, a polished wood floor and ceiling fans twirling lazily overhead made her feel like she was on a different planet. In one corner, a jazz quartet was playing a Glen Miller tune. After months of mud and canvas, this was a veritable paradise.

"Haven't you been here before?" Kate asked. She was wearing a Navy uniform and masquerading as Lieutenant Laura Halvorson, one of the nurses at the hospital on La Cava. It was a ruse she'd perpetrated several times while traveling with the Black Sheep, since Colonel Thomas Lard didn't know K.C. Cameron's true identity. If he ever found out, Sarah knew that would mean the end of Kate's Associated Press assignment in the Solomons. She thought that assignment certainly agreed with her sister. There was a lot to be said for being in love, Sarah thought.

"No." She shook her head in answer. "I've always spent my R and R with you lot on La Cava. The only time I was here, I had Raider with me. I don't think they would have appreciated him in here."

"The last time we were here, your sister smacked me up side the head and accused me of offending her honor," Jim recalled. "Say what you like but she knows how to create a distraction."

"I think you liked it," Kate grinned.

"One of you boys have to tell me _that_ story," Sarah said, raising her wine glass and sipping. "Kate's mentioned it but I think she gave me the edited version."

"Well, she was wearing black –" Greg started. His grin deepened as Kate protested, laughing, clearly not offended. Sarah was reminded, again, of the depth of emotion the two of them shared.

"How many details do you need?" Kate said to her, trying to look severe. "You're my sister but there's a limit!"

"It all started when Pappy got the idea to come over here and find a set of secret coordinates . . . " Casey began.

 **XXX**

"And after Lard left his room, Greg and Katie kind of forgot Jim and I were hiding in the bathroom. We got out of there and fast," Casey finished. "Your sister was wearing a little black lace number, by the way."

"Hey!" Kate snapped, color coming up in her cheeks. "I didn't think you were looking!"

"It was hard not to, beings as Greg had you half undressed and pinned up against the wall," Casey said. A grin split his boyish features. "Oh lord, please don't tell Dee I said that, she'll have my ass."

"It would serve you right," Kate said, but the edges of her mouth were turning up. The boys were sharing a good laugh. Sarah thought they were all mental. As it turned out, there had been a _lot_ more to that story than what Kate had originally told her.

"Speak of the devil, here comes Lard now." Jim sobered, nodding at the door. Colonel Thomas Lard, accompanied by several other high-ranking brass from Washington and their wives, walked into the room. The entourage passed by the Black Sheep's table and Lard gave a pained grimace as he glanced at the group.

"Major." He said, acknowledging Greg first.

"Colonel." Greg sketched a salute.

"Lieutenant." He nodded at Kate.

"Colonel." She smiled pleasantly.

"Lieutenant." He tipped his head at Casey.

"Colonel." Casey was having a hard time not laughing.

"Captain." He nodded at Jim.

"Colonel," Jim returned with the barest civility.

Sarah noticed, uncomfortably, that Lard's gaze had fastened on her with a scrutiny that went beyond a casual greeting.

"And who is this young lady?" He extended his hand to her. "We've not met but you look very, very familiar."

"Sergeant Sarah Cameron, 137 Infantry, K9 Tactical Unit," she said, taking his hand, aware he was no doubt judging her by her the company she kept. So be it.

"That's how I recognize you!" Lard exclaimed. "I saw your photo on the cover of Stars and Stripes a few months back. I've heard good things about those dogs."

Sarah remembered the article. It had been about the introduction of military working dogs into the Pacific Theatre. With a pounding heart, Sarah remembered that in addition to profiling some of the trainers – including herself - it had featured a reference to her being the sister of "noted war correspondent K.C. Cameron." Of course, most of the world didn't know K.C. stood for Katherine Christine.

"Thank you, sir. The program is still in its infancy but I think we're making a difference."

Lard continued to study her.

"K.C. Cameron is your brother, correct?"

Next to her, Sarah felt Kate stiffen imperceptibly. The air seemed to tighten around the table.

"That's right," Sarah said brightly. "I'm K.C.'s sister."

"Is he with your . . . group . . . this evening?" Lard looked around the table as if expecting to see another person to materialize. "I have yet to meet the man." It was clear none of the Black Sheep had seen fit to enlighten Lard that K.C. was not of the male persuasion.

"I'm not sure what his plans were, sir," Sarah replied slowly. "We don't see much of each other since I'm stationed on Rendova. But K.C.'s probably around here somewhere. He's pretty tight with the Black Sheep. He speaks very highly of Major Boyington and I'm sure he'd like to thank you for the posting." She gazed innocently around the bar, as if searching for the errant correspondent.

Lard didn't say anything. He continued to study her face. He looked at Kate, who smiled sweetly. He looked back at Sarah.

"You know, you and Lieutenant Halvorson look tremendously alike. In fact, you could be sisters."

Sarah shrugged.

"You know what they say, everyone has a double," she replied briskly.

"Yes . . . they do say that, don't they." His gaze lingered.

A three-star general in Lard's group called for him to hurry up and join them so they could order drinks.

"It's been nice meeting you." He inclined his head slightly in Sarah's direction.

"Likewise, Colonel. I'll tell K.C. you sent your regards the next time we see each other."

"I'd appreciate that. I really need to talk to that man. His coverage of the 214 is . . . remarkable. He's gone beyond what I expected when I cut the orders to have him embedded with that unit."

Kate coughed. Greg rubbed a hand across his face to hide a smile.

"I'm sure K.C. is giving the Black Sheep very thorough coverage," Sarah continued. "Wouldn't you agree, Major?" She turned an innocent smile on Greg, who nodded.

"Working with Cameron has been one of the most pleasurable experiences I've ever had with the press." He inclined his head. "I think your party is waiting, sir."

Lard turned away.

Sarah let out her breath. Finding her wine glass empty, she took Jim's whisky tumbler and downed the contents in one gulp. Coughing slightly, she turned to Kate.

"By the way, Colonel Lard sends his regards."

"Oh shut up," Kate said. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. _Thorough coverage?_ Jim, she's nothing but trouble, just warning you."

Jim refilled his glass and raised it.

"Here's to you, Red, you're a Black Sheep if I ever saw one," he said.

If Colonel Lard heard the uproarious laughter and clinking of glasses at the table behind him, he ignored it. He could never figure out how those regulation-defying Black Sheep seemed to attract the most beautiful women.

 **XXX**

Several hours later, Greg and Kate stood to leave.

"You two keep the bottle," Greg said, pushing the half-full bottle of Aussie red across the table toward Sarah.

"Here." He flipped a key into the air. Jim caught it with a questioning look.

"What's this?"

"My room," Greg said quietly. "Third Quonset, room 4, in the back. You take it tonight."

"But where will you - ?"

Greg slid his arm around Kate's waist.

"K.C. Cameron has acquired press accommodations, which I'm told are even nicer than officers' quarters." He chuckled and lowered his voice further. "That way you won't have to bargain with TJ." He referenced the double occupancy dormitory rooms the men usually shared when on leave. "And I've already had your bag sent over there."

"Thanks." Jim pocketed the key with a feeling Kate had been behind this. She'd never used the press accommodations when they were on Espritos before, not wanting to chance Colonel Lard discovering her real identity. He hadn't known if he and Sarah would be able to spend the night together or not. He'd been afraid it was going to come down to creative bargaining with TJ to find other accommodations or knocking the kid out and locking him in a broom closet so they could have the room to themselves. Now it looked like neither would be necessary.

Kate looked at him like she was going to say something, then thought better of it and smiled broadly at Sarah.

"G'night, Sair." She winked. "Sweet dreams."

"Go away," Sarah hissed. Kate laughed and she and Greg disappeared.

Sarah met Jim's eyes and he watched in amusement as a light flush rose in her cheeks. They were clearly thinking the same thing. She was a little tipsy from the wine, letting a reckless sensuality rise to the surface. Seeing her like that was an enjoyable change from the brisk, and occasionally frightening, business-like efficiency with which she approached life.

The quartet struck up a rendition of "As Time Goes By."

"They're playing our song, darlin'." He held out his hand.

"I didn't know we had a song." She took it and stood. He led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.

"That's because I never get to dance with you. I get to watch you shoot people and I get to sit with you overnight in the hospital and I get to watch you leave. But I haven't danced with you in months."

She tipped her head back, laughing, and he felt the supple warmth of her body against his. He pulled her closer and let the music weave a tapestry of unlimited possibilities around them.

 **XXX**

The crowd in the bar was thinning. Half of the squadron had disappeared, vanishing to more private accommodations with female personnel who were also seeking a temporary escape from the war. The other half was either still looking for a willing partner or had found solace in the bottom of a glass.

The evening had passed with drinks, dancing and enjoying the Black Sheep's company. The boys were in tearing high spirits and had alternated between pursuing girls and teasing her and Jim. Apparently Kate hadn't been the only one who saw Greg toss Jim his room key. Sarah had seen the wisdom of abandoning any pretense of innocence where they were concerned. She'd had Jim's fingerprints all over her since the night of the bonfire on La Cava and the boys knew it.

Now, Casey was regaling her with tales of a mission involving a Navy aircraft carrier.

"We had to take Hutch because Navy mechanics don't know how to fix anything," he was explaining. "It was an off-the-wall mission to start with because Pappy had talked General Moore into flying it in Japanese planes and we could barely get some of them off the deck."

Beneath the table, Jim's hand stroked her knee, then slid under her skirt and teased along her thigh. She jumped, her eyes gone wide at the unexpected caress. Casey gave her a questioning look.

"Would you like another drink?" Jim asked politely, his fingers warm against her leg as he lifted the wine bottle with his other hand.

"No," she replied with equal politeness, crossing her legs and neatly trapping his hand. He was inappropriate as hell and it sent her heart racing. "I don't believe so." She smiled at the look on his face.

Casey didn't know what was going on but he was sure it didn't involve him. He busied himself pouring another drink.

"Would you like to leave?" Jim squeezed her leg. His eyes were a dark suggestion and it was all she could do not to grab his tie and take his mouth right there.

"Yes, I believe I would."

The rough warmth of his fingers sent tongues of heat flickering through her. She uncrossed her legs. He stood, offered her his arm, and they bid Casey goodnight. Jim picked up her satchel. Bobby Anderson appeared, brandishing a bottle of Scotch, and joined Casey, so Sarah took the wine with them.

They walked through the darkened base toward the officers' quarters. The night breeze carried the scent of the ocean and nearby shipyard. Some optimistic gardener had planted a bed of ornamental ginger along the sidewalk. It was blooming madly, filling the air with spicy perfume. Jim stopped, pulled her to him and kissed her, his tongue grazing her lower lip.

"You're okay with this?" he asked softly, "coming with me tonight, I mean?"

"Yes." The wine sang in her blood. She knew exactly what she was doing. Well. Sort of.

He kissed her again and she pressed herself against him, aware of nothing but his arms around her and his mouth on hers. Nearby, a small knot of senior officers and their wives strolled past on their way back from the club.

Colonel Lard shook his head and snorted. Public displays of affection were frowned on, especially if they involved officers. He was sure there was something in the Marine Corps Manual about that. The nearby security light glinted on the copper and gold curls tumbling from under the girl's cap and he did a double take. It was K.C. Cameron's sister. With that trouble-making executive officer of Boyington's. That figured. He shook his head. Damn. How did they do it?

 **XXX**

The key turned in the lock and Jim swung the door inward. Sarah stepped in ahead of him. The room was clean and spare, with a double bed, desk and wardrobe and an adjoining private bathroom. Compared to canvas walls and outdoor showers, it seemed to her like a five star hotel.

She set the wine on the desk as he closed the door. The click of the lock sliding home sounded very loud in the silence. The window faced the ocean. She opened it and a breeze drifted into the room. Her stomach was knotted and her mind was a swirl of emotion.

"Join me in a drink?" Jim's voice cut through her thoughts.

He poured into the stemware sitting atop the desk. Handing her one, he raised his glass to hers.

"Here's to you, Red."

She was lost in the heat of his eyes, feeling the rough promise of him wrapping around her.

"Here's to us," she answered. Her voice was not as confident as she had hoped.

He tapped his glass against hers and a single crystal note hung in the air. They both drank, not taking their eyes off each other.

Jim leaned around her and flipped off the overhead light. The room slid into shadow. The curtains at the window lifted slightly on the breeze. She didn't protest when he took her wine glass and set it back on the desk. He cupped her chin, tipping her face to his.

"Come to bed with me, Sarah."

She didn't trust herself to speak. Then she was in his arms, his mouth was on hers and every other thought vanished from her mind.

He undressed her slowly, unbuttoning her shirt and kissing her throat and the tops of her breasts as the fabric fell to the floor. She took a deep breath, ordered herself not to tremble. Her skirt went next, tumbling down, and he cradled her hips in his hands, pulling her against him. She could feel the stiff heat of his arousal and swallowed hard. This was really going to happen.

"Damn, darlin', you look good in white lace." The honest appreciation in his voice sent a spike of pleasure through her. "I know you don't dress like that every day."

"You're right." Her hands were against his chest, loosening his tie. She was afraid they'd start trembling if she didn't keep them busy. God knew the rest of her was starting to.

"How'd you know I'd see it tonight?"

"Educated guess." She wasn't about to tell him she'd spent a ridiculous amount of time dwelling on how the evening might end, on what she should wear beneath her uniform. She stepped back and bent to roll down her stockings. She could feel his eyes tracing her figure. "This was my birthday present from Kate."

Standing again, she shivered as his fingertip brushed the top of her panties. " _This_ was what Kate sent you? Remind me to thank her." His voice was hoarse. Her heart picked up speed.

When he started to pull off his tie, she stopped him, putting her hands over his. "Let me."

He smiled, his hands cradling her waist, as she finished un-knotting the cloth and pulled it loose. His shirt was next and she grazed her mouth across his chest, letting the taste of his skin linger on her lips. Her heart was in her throat as she unfastened his belt, unzipped his trousers and tugged them over his hips.

He stepped out of them, lifted her and laid her on the bed, then lowered himself against her. Sarah quivered at the unaccustomed sensation of skin on skin as his hands brushed over her, leaving a trail of flame wherever he touched. Single-handedly, he unfastened her bra and pulled it off. Cool night air drift over her hot skin, fanning the flames. His tongue flicked over her nipple, then he gently closed his teeth on it and drew her into his mouth. She gasped, unimagined pleasure rocking over her.

"You're more beautiful every time I see you," he whispered against her neck. He slid his hand the length of her thigh, pausing briefly over the ridge of scar tissue where the bullet had dug its furrow a month ago. It had healed but she'd always carry the scar. He traced it down to her knee, then, slowly, up her inner thigh.

"You see more of me, every time you see me," she pointed out, some small part of her mind still capable of coherent thought.

"Got a problem with that?"

"No," she whispered, caught in the dark demand of his eyes.

She jolted as his fingers slid along the edge of her panties. No man had ever touched her _there_ before. She forced herself to relax as Jim brushed his fingers between her legs, their heat searing through the fabric to her soft wetness beneath. The sensation was dazzling. She surrendered completely, giving her body to him, trusting him with it. Her hips rose without conscious thought and he drew her panties off, leaving her totally bare to him.

He kissed her, slow and deep, his tongue on hers, as he slid his hand between her thighs and cupped her slick heat. She gasped at the unaccustomed intimacy, the light stroke of fingers that was paralyzing her. He was gentle but not hesitant. She was torn between telling him to stop, to wait, to go slower . . . and not telling him anything for fear he _would_ stop.

Jesus, Kate hadn't told her it would be anything like this. His touch was exquisite, borderline unbearable. Sensation threatened to consume her, driving every other thought from her mind, leaving only a blank canvas where his hand could create things she had never dreamed of.

She was caught in his eyes, reading the pleasure he took in her body even as she was helpless under his hand. His touch drove her beyond the limits of control and she cried out, dug her nails into his shoulder as the heat burned through her, then plunged her into the abyss of mindless release. She moaned against him, body humming like a high tension wire, unable to move as aftershocks rippled through her.

Jim stroked her back, cupping her hips to press her against him, as she slowly came back to reality.

In Kate's defense, her sister possibly had told her it would be something like that but honestly, how did you put _that_ into words? Her mouth found his, opening to invite him deeper. She wanted more of him, doubted anything that came next could compare to what had just happened but driven by an overwhelming need to return the pleasure.

He took her hand and slid it across the flat plane of his stomach to press against his hard shaft. She was tentative at first, but the feel of him throbbing against her fingers sent a bolt of unexpected arousal through her. She worked loose the buttons on the waistband of his shorts and he shifted to let her pull them off. His breath caught and he groaned at her touch, the heat of his body wrapping her like a dark promise.

"God, Sarah." The sound of her name on his lips as she stroked him sent another hot rush coursing through her. She hooked a leg around his, pulling him closer. The feel of his need pressing against her echoed through places she'd never been aware of before.

As if reading her mind, Jim whispered, "If this isn't what you want, tell me now, while I can still stop."

"This is what I want," she said softly. "I want you."

He kissed her. He reached down to his bag near the bed, then unwrapped and rolled on the condom with a practiced ease that Sarah wasn't sure if she found reassuring or unsettling.

"I don't want this to hurt. I'll try to be quick," he said.

"Don't hurry on my account." Her voice was barely audible.

He rolled her onto her back and her legs opened to welcome him. She felt him press against her, heat, hardness, entering her slowly. She tensed, hesitant, and he whispered, "Relax, darlin', just relax."

She shifted against the mattress, yielding to him, as he eased deeper. Relaxing was a lot easier said than done. She cried out this time, a sharp gasp of pain, and he stilled. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest.

"Sair?"

"I'm okay," she whispered, not entirely believing it but helpless to resist.

Then he was full into her and moving slowly. She felt like her body was betraying her, demanding she take part in something that was both sensual and painful at once. Uncomfortable? Yeah, she'd have a few words with Kate about _uncomfortable_. Time hung in a delicate balance between desire and pain and she surrendered to it.

Then the worst was over. Or at least it wasn't getting any worse. She gradually became aware of the rhythm of his body and let herself rise, cautiously, to match it. Her fingers were light on his back, barely daring to breath as her body grew accustomed to him filling her. She could feel the tension as he held back, forcing himself to go slowly.

Her body responded to the slow rocking motion. Her legs wrapped around him, their bodies entwined as one. She could feel the storm building in him, rising higher, harder.

"Sair . . ." his breath was ragged. "I'm sorry . . ."

He thrust into her roughly, once, twice, three times and she felt him explode, his climax ricocheting through her as he pinned her hard onto the bed. She cried out at the sudden violation, then realized it hadn't been painful, just unexpected.

His face was buried in her neck. She felt his heart, a racing beat that matched hers. They lay in a tangle of limbs, not speaking, the ceiling fan revolving slowly overhead. She felt the sheen of sweat drying on her body, acutely aware of new and unfamiliar sensations echoing through her.

Jim rolled onto an elbow and brushed the hair back from her cheek.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"Not much." She wasn't lying. It had been hard to separate the pleasure, the aching need to take him inside her and possess him, from the pain that had come with it.

"Don't lie to me, darlin'." He sounded doubtful.

"I'm not," she protested.

"Is that why you were biting your lip the whole time?" He kissed her.

Oh lord, had she actually been doing that?

"Okay," she buried her face in his shoulder, "It was a little . . . uncomfortable . . . part of the time." She could just make out his face in the room's shadow, his expression indicating she should go on. "I mean . . . when you . . . at first . . . " She gave up, flustered. "But some of it was very . . . not uncomfortable."

"I love you, Sarah." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her head onto his chest.

"Thank you."

"For loving you? I'd say the pleasure was all mine but apparently it wasn't." He chuckled.

"No." She poked him lightly in the chest. "For saying no to me, that night on the beach. I'm glad we didn't . . . there." She couldn't imagine having done what they'd just done outdoors, with only darkness to create an illusion of privacy. Her sister and Greg must be insane to go to the beach as often as they did. Either that or really, really good at what they shared together there. She suspected it was a little of both.

Jim's breath was soft against her hair.

"I said we weren't doing it there that night, not that we'd never do it there."

She raised her head to study his face. Dear God, he was serious.

"I love you, too, but we'll see about that."

"Don't make me pull rank on you, Sergeant," he chuckled.

"I'd like to see you try."

 **XXX**

"Are you awake?" Jim's voice was soft against her ear. She was curled on her side against him in the dark, his arm around her.

"That's a ridiculous question," she said drowsily. "There's only one answer you'll ever – oh!" She jerked as his hand cupped her breast and slid lower. "Yes! I am now!"

"Thought so."

Her body responded to his deliberate caresses as he brought her, quivering, to the last possible point of endurance before taking her. She was molten under him, welcoming him with an intoxicating sense of possession.

His need was as strong as before but more controlled now, after the searing flame of their first time had tempered the edge of demand. It felt different now, she thought, less invasive, tender but not painful.

Feeling him inside her triggered an unknown need. The more he gave her, the more she wanted. Embers were starting to ignite somewhere deep inside her even as she felt the hard surge of his release. She thrust her hips up to meet him, her body soaring with exaltation as his pleasure echoed through her.

As they lay in the darkness, he ran a thumb across her mouth.

"You didn't bite your lip this time."

"I had other things on my mind." The tension still hummed through her body, her need an almost tangible thing. She swallowed hard. "I still do."

He cradled her breasts, her nipples gone hard against his touch, then slid his hand across her belly and lower.

"Oh really?"

"Really."

His answering smile was lost in the shadows and he teased her until she rose hard against his hand, crying out wordlessly, totally and unapologetically, his.

 **XXX**

She woke as the horizon started to glow with gold and rose. Conscious of the limited time they had together before the war pulled them apart again, she traced her fingers down his back to the lean curve of his hip, across his belly and -

"You have my complete attention, Sergeant," Jim said, rolling to face her. His dark hair was tousled, making him look younger than his 22 years. That good old boy's smile sent her stomach tumbling as he raked his eyes over her.

"Finally," he said.

"Finally what?" She couldn't believe she was lying here with him, nothing but a smile between them, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She'd been afraid that fragile sense of oneness, of words and heat shared in the dark, would fade like mist at sunrise. It hadn't.

"We're finally waking up together the way it should be – both of us in the same bed, with no clothes on." He stretched, scrubbed a hand over his face. "Damn, girl, you're hard on me."

She didn't say anything, just smiled and tossed the sheet back. The look on her face was an open challenge.

With one fluid movement, he rolled her and pinned her on her back, their fingers entwined as her arms stretched over her head. Her need echoed his, her body comfortable now with the balance between invitation and demand. She was achingly wet as he slid into her, her eyes gone wide at sensation that was no longer pain or discomfort.

She gave herself to him body and soul, wanting nothing more as time blurred to a standstill. She saw the reflection of her own desire in his eyes, felt the fire rising in her blood. There was no hesitation this time, no holding back by either of them. He played her body with rough skill and she was caught in a web of pleasure, not in surrender, but in the shared joy of giving even as she took. The delicious agony of the climax pounded through her, consuming her. Calling his name, she pulled him into the flames with her.

 **XXX**

Sarah and Jim ate a very late lunch with Kate, Greg and the few members of the squadron who were conscious and sober enough to sit at a table and hold utensils. Talk was about the mundane business of war, of the Rabaul campaign and Sarah's travel to Kolombangara with Raider in the coming week. Kate had given her a couple of meaningful glances but they hadn't had time to talk privately.

Sarah figured her sister was certainly capable of adding two and two and getting four. In spite of being neatly back in uniform, it was hard to keep her mind focused on the meal and conversation. Every time Jim caught her eye, he grinned and that didn't help any. Greg had given her one look when they first sat down at the table and raised his eyebrows. She'd blushed – damnit, was it that obvious - then answered with a lazy smile of her own. He'd chuckled. She didn't think he had any room to talk. Kate certainly looked radiant this morning, too.

Sarah wanted to ask her sister about that mysterious reference in her letter but she never got a chance. _"There's something I need to tell you but it needs to be in person and I'm not even sure yet myself, so it may have to wait."_ It couldn't be anything serious or Kate would have found time to tell her. She brushed it off.

Then it was time for the Black Sheep to head back to La Cava. Jim kissed her good-bye in full view of the squadron, much to their delight, and the boys whistled with enthusiasm. If there weren't any secrets on La Cava, apparently there weren't any on Espritos, either. She was sure TJ hadn't wasted any time pointing out Jim had not spent the night in their room. The only benefit to flying back to Rendova on a separate transport was that she wouldn't have to face all the boys up close and personal for an extended flight. But then, they thought she and Jim were already sleeping together before last night so maybe they would go easy on him. Yeah. Right.

"See you later," she whispered, hating the good-byes as much as ever. "I love you." She didn't beg him to be careful. They never said it, neither of them, as if saying the words out loud would somehow tempt fate.

"Love you, too, darlin', see you in my dreams." He touched her cheek and was gone.

She and Kate hugged a quick good-bye and then the transport lumbered down the airstrip. Watching it lift into the air she thought now they'd all go back to the war – her with her dogs, Kate shooting photos and filing stories, Jim and Greg flying missions in planes held together with baling wire and beer can patches, counting on skill, arrogance and luck to bring them back in one piece.

 **XXX**

Most of the Black Sheep were still hung over by the time they got on the transport for the trip home. Greg didn't look like he'd gotten any more sleep than Jim had. He didn't look like he cared. Kate took a seat next to him and demurely smoothed her skirt.

Jim climbed over Casey's legs and sat down. The memory of Sarah, the innocent heat of her body tangled with his, played through his mind. He couldn't keep the grin off his face as he smothered a yawn.

"What are you so happy about?" Bobby Anderson grumbled, "Only one thing makes you that happy and we want to hear about it, James. Don't hold out on us this time."

"Stow it, Anderson." Jim leaned against the bulkhead and closed his eyes. "Ain't nothing you need to hear."

"Come on, Jim," TJ wheedled. He was clutching his head as if it might fall off. "You didn't come back to the room last night, your bag wasn't even there, so where'd you sleep? Just tell us that."

"Did you get laid this morning, too?" Bobby persisted. "You did, didn't you? I knew it!"

Jim opened one eye and fixed Anderson with a warning glare. He noticed Kate following the exchange with interest. He gave her what he hoped was a perfectly innocent smile. The look on her face said she wasn't buying it.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he said. A few months ago, he would have cheerfully regaled the boys with a play-by-play. But that was a few months ago. Knowing what he'd taken from Sarah last night – what she'd willingly given him – it damn well wasn't anybody else's business. She was everything that was good and pure and right in his life, and he thought, maybe, just maybe, he could manage to keep it that way.

"Since when are you a gentleman?" TJ grumbled. "And I'd bet kissing was the least of what you did. Sarah's one sweet piece of – never mind," he added hastily, seeing the look on Jim's face.

Jim leaned back and tipped his hat over his face. "I need to catch some sleep, so if you boys would be so kind as to keep your noses in your own business, it'll save me the trouble of having to hand you your teeth when we land." He adjusted his cap and looked at Kate. "By the way, that was an exceptionally thoughtful birthday present you gave your sister."

He enjoyed the knowing look on her face and the men's confusion before dropping off to sleep.

[Type here]


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Winds of war**

 **Jan. 3, 1944**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

Jim had a bad feeling about the day's mission although he couldn't pin it down. It wasn't any different than the other missions they'd flown lately – another fighter sweep over Rabaul, just like the one yesterday and the one before that and the one before that - an endless, gut-clenching blur of diving Zeroes and smoke and death. They needed a break. The pilots were exhausted, the mechanics were barely able to patch the planes back together before they headed out again. He didn't know why today should be any different.

The night he and Sarah spent on Espritos seemed like it had been months ago, instead of days. He woke feeling her next to him, her scent lingering in his mind. Casey had brought him a message from her last night, telling him she was leaving on Jan. 3, traveling with dogs and men as part of the offensive on Kolombangara, uncertain when she'd return and would he please tell Kate.

He'd told Kate, seen the worry flash in her eyes. He knew how close the two of them were, knew they shared the same unspoken concern for each other as they did for him and Greg. None of them dwelt on it, as if saying it out loud might attract the very thing they wanted to avoid.

He wondered exactly what Sarah had told her sister about that night on Espritos, then decided it didn't matter. He expected the girls would talk and if Kate was privy to insider information about him, well, she was keeping it to herself. Greg had deduced – correctly - from the glow on Sarah's face the next morning that things had gone . . . well . . . their first time together. After tolerating the interrogation on the flight home, Jim hadn't said much more, except to tell Greg he'd been right – she'd been worth waiting for. Besides, Jim figured he and Kate were even up now, since Greg had let slip a few details about her when the subject had turned from war to women one night while they were sitting up over a bottle.

Jim walked to the flight line with both of them that morning, teasing Kate about where she'd been sleeping. She was so used to his over-the-top inappropriateness by now, he figured she'd miss it if he stopped.

Jim peeled off to climb into his bird, chatted briefly with the mechanic who'd put it back together again last night. He hoped. Through the dust and the chaos, he saw Greg slap Kate on the butt, heard him tell her to stay out of trouble. She was laughing as she said, "I'll be waiting." He thought about Sarah, the warm silk of her body under his, the way her lips parted when she called his name.

Then he was in the cockpit, shouting "Clear!" as his Corsair's engine kicked to life. Barreling down the airstrip, thoughts of anything except survival were pushed out of his mind.

 **Jan. 3, 1944**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry HQ**

Sarah, Raider, Jack Harrison and his little Belgian shepherd bitch, Nova, and two dozen other members of the 137 boarded a transport bound for the jungles of Kolombangara at 0700. The parameters of their mission were vague. Sarah had no idea how long they'd be gone.

She hadn't heard from Kate since she'd seen her on Espritos a week ago. That brief hiatus from the war, that one intense, incredible night with Jim, had left her heart overflowing and achingly empty at the same time. She wanted more of him. His touch made her body respond in ways she'd never dreamed possible. But even more, she just wanted time with him, time to listen to his stories about growing up in Texas, about meeting Greg and flying with the Black Sheep for the first time. About their missions, their never-ending battle with Colonel Lard, about the highs and lows of life at the 214. Damnit. There was never enough time. A few days here, a night there, and then the inevitable good-byes. Someday, she would like to stop having to say good-bye.

As the C-47 taxied down the airstrip, she braced her feet on either side of Raider and said a silent prayer for Jim, Greg and all the Black Sheep who were flying a mission that day. She prayed for Kate, too. She needed as much divine intervention as any of the boys, Sarah thought.

 **Jan. 3, 1944**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

Jim led what was left of the Black Sheep home. They went on radio silence when they entered La Cava airspace. He knew she'd be waiting. He knew she'd be counting planes. They were four short.

"I'll tell her when we land," he said, his voice tight. "The rest of you keep your traps shut."

Kate was there, searching the sky over his shoulder, as he rounded the wing of his bird.

"Jim?"

He'd never heard fear in her voice before, not even that day she cut him out of his burning plane. It was like she already knew. He could read it in her eyes. The thing she had feared most had happened.

"Greg was shot down over Rabaul Harbor," Jim said, his voice choked with emotion. "We were outnumbered, worse than usual. He radioed he'd been hit but none of us saw it. There was so much smoke. Visibility was horrible. We think he jumped clear - Anderson thought he saw a chute. They got Ashmun, too, and Flynn and Carson." He swallowed hard, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, Kate."

He watched the color drain out of her face and for a minute he thought she was going to faint. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around her. She stumbled against him and he squeezed her tight, his own mind a churning void of loss. She sobbed, hard racking tremors that shook her slender frame like they might tear her apart. Then, taking a deep breath, she pulled herself together and pushed back from him.

"What happens now?" she asked.

"We wait."

 **Jan 12, 1944**

 **Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ**

Jim watched as Casey handed Meatball's leash to Kate. She was dressed in a civilian skirt and jacket, waiting to board the C-47 sitting on La Cava's airstrip. Behind the waiting men, the base was being dismantled. It was nine days after Greg had been shot down and he'd been declared missing, presumed dead. Colonel Lard hadn't wasted any time disbanding the 214. The war was shifting. The island was to be evacuated. The hospital was already empty, nurses and patients moved to Espritos. Kate was headed back to a civilian newspaper job in the States, wrapped with steel-shod determination that Greg was alive and would be found.

She turned to him.

"He's alive, Jim, and he'll come back." Her eyes were full of conviction. Jim took her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.

"I hope you're right, Katie. If you need anything, if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

"Tell Sarah I'm sorry I had to leave before I could talk to her." Kate's frustration was evident on her face. Casey had tried repeatedly to contact Sarah on Rendova but had only been able to leave messages for her. She was still part of the offensive on Kolombangara, and would be there for the foreseeable future, unreachable.

"Do you want me to tell her about . . . you know?" Jim lowered his eyes briefly to Kate's slender midsection and shifted awkwardly.

He'd found out about the pregnancy pretty much by accident a few days earlier. By tacit agreement, he'd said nothing to the rest of the Black Sheep. He'd told Casey and Don on a need to know basis, while Casey finessed and back-dated paperwork to have Kate and the baby listed as Greg's beneficiaries, and while Don made arrangements for her to take a job in the newsroom of one of his father's papers on the east coast. He figured the rest of them all probably knew by now, though.

Kate had been incredibly strong through all of it. After her initial breakdown, she'd been stalwart as she made plans for a future she'd never seen coming. The only thing she asked from him was to stay in touch and to send word the instant he heard anything about Greg.

Now, he saw tears brimming in her eyes as she prepared to leave La Cava for the last time. Alone, except for a stubborn and unusually clean bull terrier and the tiny life growing inside her.

"Yes," Kate said, answering his question. "Tell her, please. I meant to tell her before, but, the time was never right and then . . ." She gestured helplessly. "I want her to know and I want her to hear it firsthand from you, not in a letter. Tell her I'll write as soon as I'm settled. Give her this for me, the next time you see her." She stretched up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

"Take care of yourself, darlin'," Jim said. "And the . . . um . . . little lamb, too."

She turned and walked up the steps onto the plane, Meatball by her side. Jim watched her go, noting the defiant set of her shoulders, the stiffness of her spine. If anyone could keep Greg alive through sheer force of will, it would be her, he thought.

 **Jan. 14, 1944**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry & VMF 149 "Fighting Gryphons" HQ**

"Damnit to hell!"

Sarah stormed around the inside of her tent in a desperate fury, the thin yellow memo sheets crumpled in her hand. She'd read them over and over with a frantic hope that maybe she'd misunderstood, that the news they brought couldn't be true. Now, tears blurred her vision and she couldn't read them at all.

The mission to Kolombangara had lasted interminably. She'd returned to discover a stack of messages waiting for her from Jim and Casey. Greg had been shot down over Rabaul and the War Department had given him up for dead. It was rumored the Black Sheep were going to be disbanded. Jim was uncertain where he'd be assigned next and Kate had left the South Pacific, headed back to the states to take a job at a civilian newspaper.

The multiple emotional blindsides left her wounded and scared. It seemed like everyone she loved and held dear was being yanked out of her life. Kate, gone thousands of miles away and she hadn't even been able to say good-bye. Jim, headed God knows where. Would she ever see him again? And Greg, no, just no. He just couldn't be dead. Kate wouldn't allow it. The Black Sheep, taken down. The pain and uncertainty of it all slammed into her like a wall. Raider whined and pressed against her leg.

"Bloody fucking son of a bitch!" Sarah picked up a coffee mug and hurled it across her tent in frustration. It smashed just above the door frame with a satisfying porcelain explosion. Raider flattened his ears.

"Whoa, darlin! I thought the front lines were 75 miles north of here." Jim stepped into the tent. He was wearing a flight suit, carrying a mae west in one hand and a duffle bag in the other.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped in surprised confusion. Then, realizing none of this was his fault and that he was probably in the same frame of mind as she was, added, "Sorry." She stormed around the tent, pacing off furious energy, then stopped and stared. "But seriously, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm glad to see you, too." He looked tired but he was smiling. "I've been reassigned. I'm with the 149 now. TJ, too. Casey's an aide at General Moore's office and French is off being a flight instructor at Henderson. Rest of the boys went into the pilot's pool. They'll be called up as they're needed."

She stopped pacing, stunned.

"So it's true?" Her words came slowly. "Lard disbanded the Black Sheep?"

"Yeah." Jim's mouth went tight. "The 214 is done." The pain in his eyes mirrored hers, their losses entwined. There'd been something about the Black Sheep that Sarah found solid and welcoming, like extended family where she always belonged. She knew Jim thought of them that way, too. Now that was gone, too, torn apart by the winds of war.

She crossed the tent in two strides and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He dropped his gear and wrapped her in a tight embrace. They stood, motionless, his face pressed against the top of her head, as the pain of combined loss – Kate's, hers, Jim's - stabbed through her, the grief overwhelming.

They'd been invincible – Jim, Greg, Casey, TJ, both Bobbies, Jerry, Don and all the rest of them. As if the drinking, flirting, brawling and sheer effrontery could keep the war from touching them. Now Sarah knew she'd never see most of them again. Her heart was breaking for Kate, her whole world seemed to be spinning out from under her feet, pulling her toward a dark void. She quit fighting it and let the tears come in a hot torrent.

Jim held her while she sobbed, his arms a secure refuge while she let sorrow and anger drain out. Gradually, the deluge slowed. She was aware of his heartbeat, solid and steady against her cheek, the warmth of his hands on her back.

She didn't know how long they would have stood there if Raider hadn't shoved his muzzle between them. Their hands both dropped automatically to the dog's head, fingers entwining in his fur. She collected her thoughts. Greg was gone and the Black Sheep were done. Kate would be all right, even though she was thousands of miles away, facing a sudden job change. Jim was here, alive and warm against her. She drew a shaky breath and snuffled.

"Did you just wipe your nose on my arm?"

"Maybe."

"It's a good thing I love you."

She forced a grin, wiped her face dry.

"Where did Kate go? What's she going to do?"

"Don's father offered her a job at the Philadelphia Enquirer. It's one of the papers he owns. She's going to live with his folks in Philly and work there until . . ." His voice stopped abruptly. He swallowed. "Kate asked me to tell you something."

He pushed her back gently, his hands on her shoulders.

"Sit." He indicated her bunk. She sank down and he sat next to her.

"Katie's . . . she and Greg . . . Sarah, she's pregnant."

"She's what?" She'd heard him just fine but the words didn't register.

"She's – " Jim started again.

"I heard you." She squeezed his hand. "So that's what she meant . . ," she said, almost to herself. "That she had something to tell me but wasn't sure yet." She blinked, looked at him. "How did you . . . when did she tell you?"

"I kinda found out by accident. We packed up Greg's things after he was declared . . . missing. I poured a toast with a bottle that was in his tent. She wouldn't drink. Darlin', in all the time I've known Katie, I've never seen her pass up a drink. She told me then. She's a couple of months along."

A baby? Sarah's mind spun. In comparison to everything else, it wasn't the worst thing that could happen but still.

"How . . ?" No, wait. _That_ was a stupid question. She knew exactly _how_. No wonder Kate had been so emphatic about condoms during their talk . . . had that only been a month ago? "Is she okay? I mean, geez, a baby, and she's by herself . . ." Her words trailed off as frustration began building again. Her sister was the most self-reliant person Sarah knew but even this seemed a little daunting.

"She's happy about it. Maybe a little scared, but happy. I think especially now."

Sarah twisted her fingers with Jim's.

"Is he really . . . gone?" She couldn't bring herself to say _dead_. "Do you think there's any chance he could still be alive?"

Jim put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her head onto his chest.

"He was shot down over enemy waters, Sair. Anderson thought he saw a chute but we were damn near on the deck and there was so much smoke, no one could be sure. After that . . . they might have picked him up." His voice caught. "But it would take a miracle."

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Did Greg know about the baby?"

"Kate said she hadn't told him, but she thought he knew. He would have been happy. He told me once he wanted to have a family. He loved your sister more than anything else – I know the timing wasn't good but they would have made it work."

She took a deep breath and raised her chin. Her eyes were a green-gray mist that brooked no argument.

"They still will. He'll come back and she'll be waiting for him."

"Darlin' –"

"No!" Fury rising, she jabbed him in the chest with a forefinger. "Don't argue with me. Just don't. I can't think about -"

He took her by the shoulders and kissed her. It started softly, an embrace meant to comfort, then as unexpected heat rose, his mouth grew harder and comfort changed to demand. She answered in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck, letting physical contact burn away their mutual grief.

His hands worked under her T-shirt, sliding over bare skin, as he pulled her onto his lap. She stradled him and he lay back on her bunk, pulling her down on top of him. The impact of the moment banished the uncertainty of all their futures. She lowered her head, took Jim's tongue with hers as his hands stroked her back. Her body's response was frightening. His touch on her skin was like a lit match. She'd never dreamed wanting a man could come on this hot and fast. She pressed her mouth to his throat, felt his pulse quicken. His fingers slid under the waistband of her trousers, clearly willing to follow this to its natural conclusion.

"Hey, Cameron, Taylor says we're briefing in – oh, shit! Sorry!" Charlie Finnegan froze in the doorway.

Sarah wrenched her mind back to the reality of being in an open sided tent in the middle of the afternoon. Her heart was thudding, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The desire slamming through her left her trembling. If it had been dark, she wouldn't have hesitated to take him right there. His lazy grin made it clear he knew it, too.

 _Get a grip, Cameron._ It was broad daylight and Charlie was standing in the doorway, nonchalantly studying the dirt under his boots, waiting to finish his message. She pulled in a shaky breath.

"Damn you," she whispered and brushed her lips across Jim's. She couldn't help returning his grin with one of her own. The man made her smile when she should have been mortified at being interrupted by one of her own men. He was nothing but trouble.

Jim slapped her on the rump.

"Let me up, darlin', sounds like the war needs you more than I do."

She rolled off him, tugging her shirt back into place. With an expression somewhere between a glare and a grin, she met Charlie's eyes. He was chuckling. She could have slapped him.

"Daily briefing," he said. "Your presence is requested."

"Tell John I'll be right there. In a minute." Her voice was still a little more breathless than she would have liked.

From the doorway, Charlie's laugh was genuine. He looked at Jim.

"Good to see you again, Gutterman. Welcome to Rendova."

 **XXX**

Jim had watched her raging with fury and grief and fear, saw her rein in that wild Celtic temper, harness it and reach a conclusion that was so granite in its presentation that no man in his right mind would argue with her. Then she'd channeled those emotions into something physical that could have incinerated them both. He wasn't sure where that had come from but he wasn't complaining. All he'd done was pass along a good-bye kiss from her sister.

He admitted he probably wasn't in his right mind when he was around her, but that was why he loved her, that reckless, intense energy that she could focus in a heartbeat. He'd seen her do it in a bar fight. He'd seen her do it in their bed. He'd like to see a whole lot more of that. She was everything that was good in his life, everything that made it worth trying to stay alive another day, and it gnawed at his gut to see her hurt, feeling her sister's loss so keenly, even while defiantly believing the impossible.

Jim tried to be as optimistic as the next guy but he doubted he'd ever see Greg again. He'd seen too many good men get shot down over friendly water and not make it back, even with air/sea rescue hauling ass out to pick them up. Getting splashed was no picnic even under the best of circumstances. He'd been there a time or two.

Still, he and Casey had promised Kate they'd keep the pressure on Lard and Moore not to abandon the search for him and he wasn't going to back down. It would take a miracle but if Greg was out there, they'd find him.

 **XXX**

 **Mid-February 1944**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry and VMF 149 HQ**

It was nearly a month before Kate's first letter showed up in the mailbag at Rendova. Eddie McGivern delivered it with a thoughtful glance at the return address. He'd never met Sarah's older sister but he'd met Greg once, the night they went after the snipers on La Cava, and he'd liked the man. Damned shame what had happened. Sarah had told him her sister was back in the States now and was going to have Greg's baby. Hell of a thing but he privately thought if Kate was anything like Sarah, she'd make it work.

Sarah's fingers shook as she tore the envelope open. Her sister's curvy handwriting reached across the miles and Sarah could hear the determined confidence of her voice as she read.

 _Jan. 25, 1944_

 _Philadelphia, Pa._

 _Dear Sarah,_

 _I am so sorry I had to leave for the States without talking to you but I couldn't wait any longer. Everything happened so fast. Col. Lard didn't waste any time taking the Black Sheep down and I had to get out._

 _I finally met Lard, by the way, when I stopped on Espritos on my way Stateside. I will tell you about it some time. I thought the man was going to have a coronary when he found out who I was. Wouldn't that have been poetic justice – that he clearly wasn't going to make much effort to find Greg and then I almost killed him without ever touching him?_

 _By the time you get this, Jim will have told you about, well, everything. Please don't worry about me, Sarah. I'm fine. In fact, I've never felt better. Being pregnant seems to agree with me. Those are words I never thought I'd write! I've quit barfing at the sight of food in the morning and now it seems I can't eat enough. The doctor says everything is good and the baby is due in mid-August. Maybe you could come back then? I don't know if your sister having a baby justifies for hardship leave but you're the only family I've got and it would mean a lot if you could be here._

 _I'm staying with Don's parents, Harold and Caroline, for now. They have a daughter, Helen, who is a little younger than you. She's sweet and wonderful company and is very interested in hearing stories about her brother and the Black Sheep. So are Harold and Caroline. I have to be careful how much I tell them – they would be horrified if they heard about some of the stuff those boys did, especially the "unofficial" missions._

 _The Frenches have been wonderfully generous and they are completely overlooking the fact that I do not have a wedding ring on my finger but it will soon be obvious I am in the family way. We have agreed to tell people the baby's father was lost in the war and leave it at that. It's the truth, in any case, and you can't go wrong with the truth. I'm working full-time at the Enquirer for now. It's good to stay busy. I don't know what I'll do after the baby comes. I guess there will be enough time to figure it out then._

 _Sarah, I miss you so much. Please write and let me know what's going on. Jim and Casey said they would keep the pressure on Lard to look for Greg. I know they can't make it their number one priority but I truly believe in my heart that he is alive and the Japanese are holding him somewhere.  
_

 _Did Jim give you my kiss? What am I saying - I am sure he did. I doubt that man would ever miss an opportunity to kiss you. I am curious what else he has been giving you._ (Sarah let out a strangled noise at her sister's bluntness.) _You were certainly glowing the morning we left Espritos. Jim would not give the boys any satisfaction although they kept at him the whole way back to La Cava. I have to admit, I never thought I would see the day when Jim Gutterman would treat a girl with so much love and respect. Sair, whatever the two of you have, it is special. Treasure it and never take it for granted. Things can change so quickly._

 _I hope this finds all of you well and that Raider is taking care of you. This war cannot last forever. I am counting the days until we can be together again. All of us._

 _Love you,_

 _Kate_

 _PS. Tell Jim and TJ hello. I hope the 149 in still in one piece, that Jim has not busted any heads and that the only planes TJ has shot down were Japanese._

 _PPS. Meatball has adjusted well to life as a civilian dog. He is obstinate as ever and now that he is a house dog, is subjected to baths on a regular basis. I secretly think he likes them._

 **XXX**

The transfer to the fighter wing at Rendova was proof of a Higher Power, Jim was convinced of that. If Lard had known that's where he wanted to go, he was sure he would have ended up somewhere else.

After a few punches to get things settled, the Fighting Gryphons had welcomed him and TJ. The Gryphons weren't the Black Sheep, but they knew how to fight – although they were better at it on the ground than they were in the air - and they knew how to drink. Jim figured it could be worse. At least he was on the same island with Sarah now, which was about the only good thing to happen lately.

The Gryphons' CO had made him a flight leader after his hot hand on the stick kept them from getting slaughtered on one of the early missions he'd flown with them. These boys had potential but they didn't have nearly the combat experience he did. It was clear he was going to have to teach them a thing or two before their inexperience got them all killed.

Now, more than ever, he didn't want to end up at the bottom of the Slot, another statistic on the War Department's rolls. Some of the boys hadn't taken kindly to him telling them they flew like drunken possums, so he'd had to teach them another thing or two on the ground. Greg had always made that look so damn easy, the leadership, the respect, all backed up with a good right hook. Jim had the right hook and he was figuring out the rest of it as he went. It all seemed to be working out. The men listened to him upstairs and they'd flown some missions Greg would have been proud of. On top of it all, TJ was only one kill short of making ace.

Every night Sarah wasn't out with her unit or swamped under a mountain of paperwork, they managed to spend time together. It wasn't nearly as much time as he would have liked and helping her work dogs wasn't quite what he had in mind but it was better than nothing.

When a couple of guys in the 149 made an inappropriate comment about her one night, Eddie and Charlie joined him in a knock-down, drag-out brawl that nearly tore the doors off the Gryphons' Nest. Afterward, while wiping up the blood and sharing a drink with the fellows who'd backed him up, he discovered they were nearly as protective of her as Kate had been. He got the distinct feeling they didn't think anyone – including him – was good enough for her. He agreed with their sentiment but wasn't about to tell them that.

 **XXX**

Sarah thought having Jim on a base a mile away from her was scarcely better than having him stationed on La Cava. She was starting to understand why Kate had been so unapologetic about slipping away to the beach with Greg. Opportunities to be alone with Jim were rare, privacy was a prime commodity and a combination of the two was nearly non-existent.

The beach near the combined bases at Rendova offered as much privacy as was likely to be had anywhere, but after their night on Espritos, Sarah had distinct reservations about doing that sort of thing outdoors. It was one thing to make love within the privacy of a bedroom but she struggled to wrap her mind around doing something that emotionally and physically intimate with nothing shielding them but the night. She was still new enough to the whole concept to firmly believe that was what bedrooms were made for. Not that Jim hadn't suggested it more than once. When she emphatically resisted the idea, he'd laughed and given her a look that made it clear he was just biding his time.

It didn't look like it was really going to matter one way or the other, Sarah thought. Jim had been on Rendova for a month and their time together was hit and miss, at best. The previous night, he'd volunteered, not without hesitation, to wear a bite sleeve while she and Jack Harrison took turns sending Raider and Nova after him. He'd been a quick study. After the first time Raider knocked him on his ass, he'd figured out how to take the hit, balance against the dog's thrashing weight and stay upright with jaws locked on his arm. As they sat, sharing beers afterward, he'd kissed her neck and whispered, "You owe me."

She imagined he would collect. She just didn't think it would be so soon. The base had gone dark when he showed up at her tent the next evening and said, "Come with me, darlin'."

"It's dark," she pointed out practically. "Where are we going in the dark?" The stack of reports in front of her was making her crazy, though, and she abandoned them without a second thought. She followed him out to the jeep and got in.

"Stargazing."

"Stargazing?" Humor edged her voice. "Really, do most girls fall for that line?"

"You aren't most girls. And you came with me, didn't you?" There was no arguing with that lazy smile. He could still send her stomach tumbling with one look.

They drove across the air strip and down to the beach.

"Where are we going?" she asked him again, when he kept driving.

"I told you, stargazing. You can't see the stars if there's too much light from the base."

"We can't even see the base! And it doesn't generate that much light, anyway." The night spread around them like black velvet. The crescent moon pinned against the sky offered little illumination. She gave him a suspicious look. "Jim Gutterman, what –"

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The look on his face had warning bells sounding in her head. He stopped the jeep, grabbed a blanket and wrapping an arm around her waist, led her next to a fall of boulders that provided a windbreak from the ever-present sea breeze. He spread out the blanket.

"What's so special about these stars?"

He took her shoulders and pressed her gently down onto her back, then sprawled next to her.

"Look up."

Sarah's gaze swept upward. The sun had set an hour before. Stars cast a silver web over the indigo of the sky. Jim slid his arm under her head and she snuggled close to him. He smelled like soap and warm, clean male. _Trouble_ , a small voice in the back of her mind warned.

A streak of light blazed across the sky, leaving a sparkling trail that flared before fading.

"Oh!" Sarah gasped, surprised. He chuckled.

"Never seen a shooting star before, darlin'?"

"Of course I have! But how did you know - ?"

"Heard one of the com officers talking about it. There's a meteor shower tonight and it's got radio signals all messed up. I thought you'd enjoy it."

"Oh did you?" She caught her breath as another meteor split the darkness like a solo firework. She turned her head to face him. "I bet you thought you'd enjoy it, too."

Jim rolled up on an elbow and lowered his face to hers, pausing just a whisper from her lips.

"I let your dog chomp on me the other night and he sure had a better time than I did, so yeah, I'm planning on it." His hand slid under her shirt, caressing her belly.

"You volunteered for that, if I remember." She felt her self control, never at its strongest when he was touching her, starting to slip. Oh no. They were _not_ doing this on the beach in front of God and everybody.

His mouth closed over hers. The heat of his lips rocked through her as she pressed into him, unable to stop her body's reflexive response to his touch.

"But – just –" she protested. "You can't be serious!" He pulled back and in the dim light, she could see that lazy smile, the one that meant trouble from the beginning.

"Let me show you how serious I am."

He pinned her hands and lowered himself against her. Sarah caught her breath at the heat and sensation. Yeah. He was serious.

She didn't fight the wave of arousal that washed over her. It was pointless. She'd forgotten what his sheer physical impact did to her, the width of shoulders, the length of leg, the heat of muscle as he gathered her against him. The self-control that had been sliding dangerously vanished completely with a crash.

"No," she whispered. "We can't, unless you brought a . . ."

"Of course I did, darlin'." He pushed her T-shirt up, buried his mouth against her stomach. His touch was pure sin. She didn't stand a chance and she knew it.

"But . . .," her protests were getting weaker with every touch. "But what if somebody . . ." She broke off, gasping, as he unbuttoned her trousers and kissed along the top edge of her panties.

"Do you trust me, Sarah?"

Given that she was no longer trying to prevent what was happening, she thought this was a rather foregone conclusion.

"Yes." It was as simple and as complicated as that. He'd seen her at her best and at her worst. She trusted him even when half her senses were saying this was a bad idea. The other half thought it was a good idea. A very good idea.

"It's hell, living this close to you and not being able to have you except in my dreams. TJ's losing sleep, trying to stay awake to hear what I'll say next." He kissed her, a lingering brush of lips over hers. "I want to make love to you somewhere we don't have to rush because someone might walk in or hear us. We're two miles from the base, no one is going to interrupt us out here."

He was teasing about TJ, at least she thought he was. She felt a pang of self-consciousness, knowing more than once she'd thanked God she didn't have a tent mate when she woke in the dark, body trembling with want, his name on her lips.

The need to possess him and feel him possessing her in turn, was rising like the tide. It overshadowed the part of her that thought baring herself to him was the sort of thing best done in private places, not under the great, dark vault of the sky. His hands and mouth were like a siren's song luring her, powerless, to her fate.

"Don't make me pull rank on you, Sergeant," he said. She was quivering now, the building need for him burning away the sense of shyness she hadn't even felt during their first time. Overhead, a great, bright meteor burned across the sky, its silver flame lingering before vanishing.

"As if you could," she whispered. And then she was molten in his arms, their clothing tumbling off in a rush. His hands slowed to unhook her bra and ease it off, to slide her panties down her legs. She moaned and pressed against his palms as he cupped her breasts, her mouth hungry on his, desperate for his touch. The night air swept across her skin, a cool counterpoint to the flames licking higher within her. He slid his hand between her thighs and she abandoned herself to him, still new to the sensations cascading over her, still discovering the balance between possession and surrender.

"God, Sarah, you were meant to be loved outdoors," he whispered, covering her body with his.

It wasn't anything like she'd thought it would be. It wasn't about lace and shadow and seduction this time. It was about a raw need to affirm life and their unspoken commitment to one another even as war howled and snarled around them. The flames soared, burning loss and grief to ash, leaving behind only the purity of love, joy and hope. She could feel the power of the earth under them, the pull of the tide and the stars' icy fire above. The night sparkled in her blood, drawing energy to the surface of her skin where it wrapped them in a cloak of heat and power.

Being surrounded by darkness heightened every sensation, freed her from inhibition. Her body welcomed his and she cried out in pleasure as he drove into her, matched him with strength drawn from the elements. He brought her roughly to the breaking point, driving her until she begged for release.

Overhead, the stars rained fire through the infinity of the night as she called his name, taking him with her as the dark intensity of the climax consumed her.

 **XXX**

While Sarah had been delighted to get Kate's letter, she hadn't written back immediately. She was having a hard time finding the right words – her sister was the writer, not her. Finally, she sat down and alternated between gnawing on her pencil and writing with it.

 _Feb. 20, 1944_

 _Rendova, 137 Infantry HQ_

 _Dear Kate,_

 _My heart is breaking and full of joy for you at the same time. Jim told me of your news – your good news. Oh, Katie, how wonderful that you have the arrival of Greg's child to look forward to during this dark time. And if you believe in your heart of hearts that he is alive and you will be together again someday, then there is no doubt in my mind that it will happen._

 _I am beyond sorry we could not see each other before you left the Solomons. I was furious when I heard we had missed one another. I nearly took Jim's head off with a coffee cup when he came to tell me what happened. He said it's a good thing my aim is better with a rifle._

 _I am so glad to know you are well and in a good place with caring people to watch over you along this journey. Oh how I wish I could be there for you. This war grinds on. I count myself fortunate to be able to work with the dogs. It helps me keep my sanity. That and Jim, although there are days when he does not seem to contribute a great deal to having a calm state of mind. Men.  
_

 _Jim and TJ seem to be fitting in fine with the Fighting Gryphons. The unit lives up to its name – they brawl almost as much as the Black Sheep so no doubt the boys feel right at home there. Jim is taking on more leadership roles, whether he wants to or not, and I think it is good for him. In any event, he is too busy to spend much time looking for trouble. He occasionally shows up at my doorstep, bloody and bruised and looking for sympathy. Ha. He knows better than to try that angle even though he says it is because he is defending my honor. Ha again._

 _Casey keeps in contact with both Jim and I. He says General Moore is fit to be tied with the lack of intel about Greg. Moore thinks the Japanese know more than they are telling. I am taking that as a hopeful sign. Lard is uncooperative as usual although I imagine you put the fear of God into him when you confronted him face to face. Jim says there is nothing in the world scarier than a pissed off Cameron woman (he would know) and if the man had a brain in his head he would put finding Greg on the top of his list before you come back down here and finish him off._

 _Katie – you are too nosy for your own good. I already told you I was not going to file a report with you if Jim and I ever . . . got to know each other better. There are certain things that do not belong in letters (what would the censors think!). If you have questions, they will just have to keep until we see each other again. I cannot imagine what you would possibly want to know and the details are none of your business anyway. But thank you for the talk we had that day on La Cava. Your advice has come in handy and that is all I'm going to say about that._

 _Your loving sister,_

 _Sarah_

 _PS. Give Meatball a hug for me. I miss his smile. Raider smiles, too, but it tends to scare people._

A knock sounded on her tent frame. Raider swished his tail and true to form, bared his teeth in a canine grin. Hearing footsteps crossing the floor, Sarah knew without looking up it was Jim. Anyone else would have taken one look at those gleaming teeth and not come any further. Raider liked smiling at people. He thought it was fun to see their reaction.

"Yeah, Furball, I see your teeth," Jim said, but there was no heat in his voice. He scratched Raider's head, then bent to kiss the back of her neck as she put down her pencil.

"Writing to Kate?" he asked, indicating the sheets on her desk.

"Yeah. I haven't answered her first letter. It sounds like she's all settled in Philly now. She wants me to come back to the states when the baby comes, if I can get leave."

Her voice caught with unexpected emotion.

"Everything okay?"

Was everything okay? Her sister was alone and pregnant. God alone knew where Greg was. She and Jim were stuck half way around the world in the middle of a war but at least they had each other.

"Yeah," she said firmly, standing up and stepping into his arms. "Everything's okay."

Jim wrapped his arms around her and Sarah leaned against his chest, drinking in the heat and scent of him.

Everything had to be okay. The alternative was simply unthinkable.

[Type here]


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Dogs of war**

 **August 1944**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry and VMF 149 HQ**

Sarah requested, and received, a brief hardship leave when Kate's baby was due. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions at seeing her sister for the first time since Greg vanished seven months ago. The joyous prospect of welcoming a new life seemed to be in direct conflict with the ghost of uncertainty that haunted Sarah every time she thought about her sister and the man she loved.

Jim walked her to the waiting transport and kissed her good-bye.

"Tell Katie hello," he said. "I wish Casey and I had more news for her."

When it came to Greg, there had been nothing that could even remotely be called news. Even the rumors that had flown thick and fast after his disappearance had slowly faded. For the last seven months the war had churned its bloody path across the South Pacific **.** The Allies were beating Japan into a submission it refused to acknowledge and the Japanese Empire clung tightly to its secrets.

Sarah knew better than to toss rumors – faded or not - in front of her sister the journalist. If she couldn't present hard facts, she'd keep her mouth shut. Kate didn't need to be reminded that the man she'd given her heart to had apparently dropped off the face of the earth.

"I'll see you in 10 days," Sarah said and climbed up the steps onto the plane for the long trek back to the United States.

 **XXX**

 **Aug. 14, 1944**

 **Philadelphia, Pa.**

Harold French met Sarah at the airport and drove her to his home in an upscale neighborhood. Sarah flew across the gracious entryway and greeted Kate with huge smile and a bear hug. The smile sparkled with tears of happiness. The hug was awkward, given that Kate was nine months pregnant.

"You look wonderful!" Sarah said, stepping back to survey her sister.

"I'm ready for this to be over." Kate shifted a hand to rub her lower back. "I'm tired of my belly arriving places before the rest of me. Plus, he throws punches like his daddy. I don't think it will be much longer now, he really wants out."

"How are you doing, Katie?" Sarah's voice was cautious, unwilling to release a firestorm of emotion but needing to know. So much had changed since those reckless days on La Cava.

A storm of emotions raced across her sister's face – grief, loss, love, hope.

"I'm good." Her voice was filled with quiet determination. She brightened and changed the subject. "You look incredible, Sair. Seriously, the Army agrees with you." She grinned. "Or is it the Marines? One Marine in particular? How is Jim these days?"

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Jim is fine. He said to tell you hello."

"How fine is he?" Kate's voice was teasing. It was something the two of them had always shared – that ability to pick up where they left off, no matter how long it had been since they'd seen each other, no matter what might have happened in the interim.

Sarah grinned.

"He's, um . . ." she wasn't sure where to begin. There was a lot Kate didn't know. Personally, there was a lot she didn't _need_ to know, either, Sarah thought.

"The boys wouldn't give him any peace on the flight home from Espritos that day," Kate said, her voice softening with the memory. "Anderson even accused him of getting laid that morning. Which he didn't deny. But he didn't confirm it either," she added hastily at the look on Sarah's face. "So tell me –"

"I'm not telling you anything right now!" Sarah interrupted. "How many times we –"

A slender, dark-haired girl appeared through a side door and Kate made a frantic motion for Sarah to be quiet.

"Sarah, this is Helen, Don's little sister. Helen, this is my sister, Sarah."

"It's good to meet you, Sarah. Katie's told me so much about you and your dogs." Helen shook her hand. Her smile was mischievous. "I bet you could tell some great stories, too."

Sarah laughed.

"Oh yeah," she said, eying Kate. "I bet I could."

 **XXX**

The opportunity for storytelling was limited, since Kate went into labor at 10 o'clock the next morning. After some initial chaos, Harold and Caroline drove her to the hospital, accompanied by Sarah, while Helen saw them off, wringing her hands. Both Camerons were considerably calmer than the collective Frenches. Once Kate was admitted and the waiting game began, Sarah told Don's parents to go home. She would call the minute there was news.

"Son of a bitch!" Kate said through clenched teeth. "I remember exactly how this got started and let me tell you, _that_ part was a lot more fun. Sarah, promise me you and Jim are using -" She broke off and squeezed hard on Sarah's hand as the contraction seized her.

Sarah looked scandalized. Kate let out her breath as the pain eased. She fell back against the pillows of the hospital bed and pinned her sister with a hard look.

"If you _are_ sleeping with Gutterman, I hope at least one of you is being responsible and I'd guess it needs to be you."

Nearby, the attending nurse shot them a horrified glance. She'd heard delivering women say a lot of interesting things before but this was a new one.

"You're a fine one to talk," Sarah hissed. "Maybe you should have taken a page out of your own book. Condoms aren't exactly hard to find on a fighter base."

"Don't be a smart ass," Kate snapped. "I thought you were here for comfort and support, not to lecture me. And how do you know how hard it is to find condoms?" She studied her sister, whose face was still warm with color. "You _are_ sleeping with him, aren't you? When did –" She grimaced at the next contraction. "Oh bloody fucking _hell_! This needs to get over. Damnit, Boyington, where are you! You're responsible for this!"

Sarah gripped Kate's hand and decided not to point out that her sister shared an equal responsibility for her current condition. For that matter, she decided it was probably best to ignore most of what Kate was going to say in the immediate future. Physical and emotional pain had a way of wringing things out of a person they were not likely to say under normal circumstances. Sarah had no doubt, however, that Kate wouldn't hesitate to question her about her relationship with Jim during the middle of the apocalypse if she wanted to know badly enough.

Sarah didn't know how long it took to have a baby but it looked like she was going to be there for a while. The doctor's attempts to banish her to the waiting room had failed. Kate had a fit when he told her to leave.

"She didn't fly 5,000 miles to sit in a waiting room and read month-old newspapers while I have all the fun," she'd snarled.

"Really, it's better if you don't argue with her," Sarah told the doctor. "Trust me. Besides, she's trying to make an example out of herself. I'm the little sister who's supposed to learn a lesson from this."

The doctor didn't argue. He knew the baby's father had been lost in the war and Sarah was the only family Kate had. He decided certain delivery room protocols could be overlooked, especially since the younger of the two sisters was in full U.S. Army uniform. It didn't look like arguing with her would be a wise idea either.

Resolutely, Sarah settled herself into the bedside chair and tried to think of a topic that would occupy Kate's mind between contractions and didn't involve anything that had led to the current situation.

 **XXX**

Later that evening, after a great deal of creative swearing on Kate's part, 7 pound, 12 ounce Elizabeth Joyce Boyington made her entrance into the world, squalling furiously at the indignity of it all.

Kate had a hard time choosing a name. She and Sarah sat in the quiet of the private room the Frenches had insisted on paying for, letting names roll off their lips and discarding them almost immediately as too long, too short, too fancy, too plain or just not right for the tiny bundle in Kate's arms.

Finally, she settled on Elizabeth because it was Sarah's middle name and Joyce because it was their mother's name. Elizabeth Joyce Boyington seemed like a very big name for a very small baby and Kate called her Joy, in memory of everything she and Greg had shared.

"I really thought you were going to be a boy," Kate told the baby, who regarded her with solemn blue eyes. "You had me convinced, as hard as you punched."

Sarah knew Kate hadn't cared one way or the other if the baby was a boy or a girl. She was just delighted that she was here at last, with 10 fingers and 10 toes and a healthy set of lungs.

"I even had a boy's name already picked out – Gregory James."

"James? Really?"

"Really. You know how close they were - Greg, Jim and Casey. It was the three of them that put the Black Sheep together. Greg wanted to kill Jim more than once and had to beat the crap out of him from time to time but he was always the first one to stand up when Greg needed a volunteer for some hair-brained mission that was likely to get them all killed."

She and Kate sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. So much had changed in the last year. Sarah didn't spend a lot of time thinking about the future. Taking life one day at a time seemed the safest route.

"She looks just like you, Kate," she breathed, touching one of the baby's tiny fingers with her own. "She's perfect."

"She doesn't look anything like me." Kate studied the pink-wrapped bundle. "She has dark hair and blue eyes." She smiled in spite of her exhaustion. "She's got Greg stamped all over her."

"She's got your look." Sarah smiled as Joy's fingers closed around hers. "That 'don't mess with me because it won't end well for you' look."

"Funny, I thought that was Greg's look," Kate said.

"You two have more in common than you realize." Sarah was always careful never to use the past tense when she talked about him.

"Sair," Kate said quietly, "I mean it, be careful, you and Jim. Greg and I weren't . . . all the time . . . obviously . . . and well . . ." Her voice trailed off. "I wouldn't change anything now but so help me, if I get a letter telling me you're pregnant I will get back on a damned airplane and come down there and –"

Sarah cut her off, looking half-embarrassed, half-defiant.

"Don't worry about me and Jim. You've got your hands full here now."

"I'm your big sister. I will always worry about you. Especially since you're sleeping with Jim." Kate broke into a smile. "I think there's a lot you've been leaving out of your letters."

Sarah just grinned at her.

"How much time have you got?"

Kate looked around the room, at the sleeping baby.

"I'm not going anywhere." She regarded her sister with raised eyebrows. "Jim told me your birthday present was very nice. Maybe you want to start there?"

"Yeah. He liked it."

"How much of it did he get to see?"

"God, you're nosy!" Sarah blushed, closed her eyes and said, "All of it."

Hours later, Sarah fell asleep in the chair next to Kate's bed. The two sisters had been deep in conversation when visiting hours ended and the attending nurse hadn't seen any need to interrupt them. The country was in the middle of a war, after all, and as far as the nurse was concerned, anyone wearing the uniform was entitled to a little extra privilege.

 **XXX**

Sarah stayed in Philadelphia for another week after Joy's birth. She helped Kate with diapers and bottles and found babies weren't as complicated as she'd first expected. She thought her niece was an exceptionally good baby.

On the morning she was to start the trek back to Rendova, Jim, Raider and the war, she set her bag by the front door and turned to her sister.

"Give Jim my best," Kate said. "TJ, too. I miss those renegades."

Sarah hugged her fiercely and turned away quickly, before Kate could see her tears. She didn't turn fast enough.

"Sarah?" Kate gripped her arm.

"I'm okay." Sarah wiped at her eyes. "I just hate leaving. It seems like I spend all my time saying good-bye to people I love."

She looked out the window at the rainy street. Harold had gone to pull the car up in front of the house. He refused to let Sarah take a cab to the airport.

"Whatever happens, Sair, always let him know you love him," Kate said quietly behind her. "That's all you can do. The rest is up to God and McArthur."

"When will it end, do you think?" Sarah left the question open-ended. The war. The rain. The leaving.

"I don't know."

Rain dripped from the eves, washing the day in gray.

"They're still looking for him," Sarah said. "Jim and TJ and Casey."

Kate hadn't asked before and with the focus on Joy's arrival, Sarah had decided not to bring up the topic. She knew the War Department had written Greg off as just one more downed pilot. Missing, presumed dead. The military didn't spend time and resources looking for dead pilots, not with a war raging around their ears.

The boys' black market network, honed to a razor's edge during the Black Sheep's trading days, proved an endless source of information – some verifiable, some nothing but gossip. Casey wasn't getting much out of General Moore in spite of his best efforts. Jim and Casey followed leads, made calls, checked out rumors and still came up empty handed. She had nothing to tell her sister that Kate didn't already know. The Japanese would neither confirm nor deny they were holding Greg prisoner.

Sarah knew every day that passed, every rumor that couldn't be verified, every piece of intelligence that was proved untrue pushed hope further and further away. Yet each time she looked at Kate and saw the resolve in those steel gray eyes, Sarah thought maybe, just maybe, the man _was_ still alive. Kate believed he was. That was all that mattered.

Kate lifted the sleeping bundle into Sarah's arms and she hugged her niece good-bye, kissing her gently on one plump cheek. She didn't feel any particular urge to rush out and produce one of her own but she had to admit holding the baby brought a delicious sense of peace and hope. Maybe this war would be over soon and they could all come home for good.

And then what?

 **XXX**

Jim was waiting when the transport landed on Rendova. She swung into his arms and kissed him hard.

"It's a girl," she said, "7 pounds, 12 ounces, Elizabeth Joyce, and –" She stopped at the look on his face.

"Sair, Raider's been shot."

 **XXX**

Jim drove her to the tiny field hospital on the Army base. The low-slung structure was little more than a triage station before men were evac'd to one of the another hospitals in the theatre. Sarah didn't question why her dog was there. As the only medical treatment site on the base, it seemed perfectly logical.

Charlie Finnegan, one of the 137's medics, was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, eyes closed. Raider was laying on his side on blankets. She folded herself onto the floor next to him with complete disregard for her skirt and stockings. Jim sank onto a nearby chair. Charlie opened his eyes and rubbed a hand over a stubbled jaw.

"Thank God you're back, you can take care of this big mutt now," he said. "I don't think he likes me much."

"What happened?" Sarah stroked Raider's head. His eyes were closed and she knew he'd been sedated. His rib cage rose and fell steadily. Blood stained a bandage around his hind leg. An IV line was attached to a front leg. "I didn't know medics treated K9s."

"The way he was bleeding and biting, nobody else around here had the balls to do it. Yer man –" he gestured at Jim, "and me, we got him under control when they brought him back. It's all the same – human or canine – minimize the damage, reduce the pain."

"But what happened?" She was frantic for answers.

"If you want the details, you'd have to ask Harrison. But that'll be a bit of a problem, since he's on his way home with a medical discharge in his pocket."

"Jack's gone? What the hell happened?"

Charlie yawned again. He stretched out his legs, careful not to disturb the big shepherd.

"Day before yesterday, the Gryphons saw something funny along the north shore on their way back from a mission, like maybe Tojo was trying to edge into the real estate market here again. Jack led a patrol up there, one of them routine sweeps ya'll are so fond of. He had that skinny little dog with him, the crazy one who acts like Fang here, only ain't quite so big. Couple other boys went, too. Wasn't supposed to be a big deal, just a fast in and out. That new fellow, Thompson, wanted to go along, said he could handle your dog and no sense leaving him sit in a kennel just 'cause you weren't here. Jack didn't think it was a good idea and said so, but they needed to move in a hurry and you know Thompson, he just bulled his way in."

"Yeah." Sarah gritted her teeth. She knew Arnie Thompson. His arrogance had been a thorn in her side since he joined the unit. Although not technically posted with the 137 as a dog handler, he had some previous experience with working K9s and had been outspoken on the decisions Sarah made regarding the teams under her command.

"Jack said Fang here did his job but Thomson didn't, didn't even recognize the dog's indication, wouldn't turn him loose. They lost the element of surprise and things went south. Tojo used the whole patrol for target practice. Jack got shot bad but turned that red fireball loose before he went down. Thompson finally got on the ball, realized your varmint had something to say and let him go. Them two dogs put the bite on Tojo, but not before ol' Fang took a hit." He stroked Raider's side with quiet affection.

"How bad is it?" Sarah bit the inside of her lip to keep her voice from trembling.

"Went through the quadriceps," Charlie said. "Or that's what it's called in humans, I don't know what they call it in dogs. "The bullet missed the bone but it really tore up his leg." He grimaced. "He's on IV fluids and I dusted the wound good with those new antibiotic powders we're using now, so I think we can keep the infection risk low." He stopped and she met his eyes, willing him to go on. "But there was a lot of tissue damage. He was shot at close range. Even if it heals, I don't know if he'll ever be sound again."

Sarah got up. Fury snapped around her like an electrical charge.

"I'll be back."

Jim started to stand. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay here with Raider. I'm going to have a few words with Arnie Thompson."

Jim caught Charlie's eyes as they listened to her pumps click out of the building. The jeep's engine rolled over and a hail of small stones struck the side of the building as tires chewed into the dirt.

Charlie laughed grimly.

"That girl's the only person I know who can squeal tires on a dirt road."

"Thompson's day just got a whole lot worse, didn't it?" Jim said.

It was a statement, not a question.

"Without a doubt," Charlie agreed.

 **XXX**

Forty-five minutes later, Sarah was back. The color was high in her cheeks, her mouth set in a hard line. She'd changed into trousers and a T-shirt. Curling herself onto the floor, she gently adjusted the blanket under Raider's head, smoothing out a wrinkle.

"Thanks, Charlie, for everything. Taylor told me they got a muzzle on him in the field and got him back here, then you took over. Thompson was a worthless piece of shit, afraid he was going to get bit."

Charlie laughed and looked at his forearm. For the first time, Sarah noticed the neatly tied bandage.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry! How bad did he get you?"

Charlie brushed off her concern.

"It's nothing. Been hurt worse falling out of bed. That makeshift muzzle left a little to be desired. He tried for Jimmie, here, too, but apparently fighter pilots' got better reflexes than medics."

Jim shrugged.

"I've had practice. He's tried for me before."

Charlie stood to leave. "I'll be back in the morning and help you change the dressing. I think we should keep him sedated another 24 hours. He's a little grouchy when he comes around. He's not under very deep. I wasn't sure of the dosage for a dog."

Sarah caught his hand, squeezed it.

"Thank you. Go get some sleep."

Jim joined her on the floor and slid an arm around her.

"Here I am, sitting in a hospital with you again," he said. She leaned against his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.

"Thanks." The solid warmth of him was reassuring. She smiled ruefully. When they first met, _reassuring_ was the last word she would have used to describe him. Now she couldn't imagine having gone through the last year without him.

"Tell me about the kid."

"She's beautiful. She looks like both of them – blue eyes, dark hair, like Greg, but she's got Kate written all over her."

"How is Kate?"

His expression was wary, doubt blended with concern.

"She still thinks he's alive. That's all that matters."

 **XXX**

Sarah stayed at the field hospital with Raider for two days. She hauled her never-ending paperwork in with her and filled out reports and requisitions while leaning against the whitewashed plaster wall, watching the dog breathe. She slept on the floor next to him at night.

When she left for meals or to shower, Dr. Gabe Williams, the physician assigned to the field hospital, sat with him since none of them trusted Raider to his own devices in spite of the sedation. Charlie, Eddie McGivern and Jim rounded out the unlikely medical team. The latter two didn't have any medical training but as Jim pointed out, they'd both been on the receiving end of bullets so figured they were qualified to help.

Sarah didn't know Eddie had gotten shot before she'd arrived on Rendova until he casually mentioned he'd rather get shot in the leg than shot in the ass. Then he offered to let her see the scar. Her scalding look had Jim and Charlie rolling with laughter. Honestly, she thought, men were all alike and the lanky Oklahoma native seemed to be a natural when it came to bandying off-color comments back and forth with Jim.

If Doc Williams found it irregular to have a dog being treated in his facility, he kept it to himself. He figured the K9 was as much a soldier as any of the other men he treated here and had the same needs – a clean, quiet place to heal. In the absence of a qualified veterinarian, he consulted with Sarah and Charlie to plan the best course of treatment. All three of them were farm kids, used to caring for a variety of animals, although none with gunshot trauma.

Charlie lowered the dose of tranquilizers and Raider lost the glazed, passive look in his eyes. It was still imperative to keep him quiet and changing dressings was only accomplished after muzzling him. Sarah told Doc she didn't want to give him any more customers. She sat with the dog's head in her lap while Charlie removed the dressings. The first time Sara saw the damage the bullet had caused, she swore with such length and creativity, even Charlie was impressed.

Jim and the other men privately agreed it was a good idea to keep an eye on her so she didn't go after the luckless Thompson when she thought no one was looking. The verbal dressing down she'd given him had been heard by everyone on the base and they agreed if the man mysteriously disappeared, no one would ever find the body.

On the third morning, Sarah and Charlie decided to eliminate the sedatives and within hours, Raider emerged from his pharmaceutical fog. He struggled to an awkward sit and licked her face.

"Good morning, gorgeous," she said. "I missed you." She reached out for him and the shepherd buried his head against her neck. Sarah hastily wiped away the hot tears before anyone saw them.

After consulting with Charlie and Doc, Raider moved into Sarah's tent to convalesce. He was alert now but the pain left him unwilling to do more than make brief, limping forays outdoors out of necessity, then return to the tent to stretch out on a layer of blankets. Charlie came daily to consult about progress and either he or Jim helped her change bandages. Jim proved to be a surprisingly able nurse.

"Have I told you lately how wonderful your hands are?" Sarah said appreciatively one afternoon. She was firmly holding Raider's head as Jim dusted the dog's leg with antibiotic powder in preparation for re-bandaging.

"No," he said, giving her a pointed smile. "You have not."

Raider growled. He did not share Sarah's opinion.

As the days passed, Sarah coaxed the dog into short, slow walks, wincing as his useless hind leg drug awkwardly. She bit her lip. She knew what the Army's official line was regarding animals deemed "no longer of use." _To hell with that_. She'd learned from the best when it came to finding creative ways to bend the regs and didn't see any reason for that to change now.

 **XXX**

In the meantime, she had to deal with Nova. As head of the K9 unit, care for the dog fell squarely into her lap now that Jack was gone. She'd gotten word from the States that he would recover but he wasn't coming back. It was uncertain when Nova could be matched with another handler.

The Belgian shepherd bitch was nearly as much of a handful as Raider. Fueled by a ceaseless, frenetic energy, she was constantly in motion, whether on the training field or in her kennel. Sarah assumed the dog slept, she'd just never seen it happen. Until now, she'd always attributed Jack's slightly hyperactive personality to the endless amount of coffee he drank. Now, with Nova in her care, she understood why he and the dog had been such an ideal match.

The first morning she had time to devote to more than Nova's basic care, she stood by the kennel, studying the dog. She was small by comparison to Raider, with a lithe build, but there was nothing delicate about her. The black mask of her face reached above her eyes, then gave way to a fox-red coat with a black overlay. Her expression was clearly feminine and the look in those eyes was calculating.

Sarah flipped the latch on her kennel and turned her out. Nova sprang up, looked her in the eye and snapped her jaws together in a series of tooth-rattling chomps inches from the end of Sarah's nose.

She laughed. She'd seen her do this to Jack, otherwise it would have scared the living daylights out of her.

"They call it clacking," Jack had told her. "It's a malinois thing. She does it when she's happy or excited."

Which was apparently all of the time, Sarah thought as Nova trotted in circles around her, happily clacking her teeth at the prospect of having a job to do after so much down time.

Sarah pulled a canvas tug out of her pocket and the dog's demeanor changed instantly. A preternatural calm crept over her as she froze in place, pupils dilated at the prospect of something to bite. Sarah carefully made sure her fingers and thumbs were out of the strike zone, then released Nova.

The dog hit the rolled canvas with an impact that defied her size. Sarah wondered why she'd ever thought of her as small. The dog didn't just bite and hold. She whipped the tug back and forth in an agony of delight that threatened to dislocate both of Sarah's shoulders.

"You win," Sarah said, impressed, releasing the tug. Nova capered around with it for a moment, then turned and shoved it back at her. The message was clear: play the game.

"All right then." Sarah smiled and held out her hand. Nova slammed the tug against her open palm. "Game on."

 **XXX**

Two weeks later, Jim sat on an overturned ammo crate on the edge of the clearing the handlers used as a training ground. He'd come over after evening mess to see Raider. He found the dog lounging in his outdoor kennel while Sarah worked Nova.

He watched as she put the red dog through a series of heeling patterns, asking her to maintain position by her left leg while she changed direction and speed. The dog's head was high, her tail lashing. They looked good together, he thought. Hell, their hair was practically the same sun-drenched copper color.

Sarah signaled the dog to drop while in motion. Nova hit the ground, eyes intent as she walked away. On a second signal, the dog sprang forward as if spring-loaded and flew across the clearing. When she neared Sarah, she went airborne in a twisting leap to position herself at the girl's left leg. Sarah whipped out a mangled tug toy and released the dog to it. She leaned back, lifted Nova off the ground and spun her in a circle while the dog clamped the tug ecstatically.

On a word, Nova released the toy. Sarah tapped her chest and Nova sprung straight up with a solid three-foot vertical leap. Sarah caught her, squeezed her tight for a moment and let her slide back to the ground. Then she glanced across the clearing, saw Jim. Grinning, she bent and signaled his direction, whispering something to the dog.

 _Oh, shit._

Jim barely had time to turn sideways before the lithe red missile flew at him. She went airborne from about four feet away. He threw his arms open in what he knew was the only way to handle what was coming. Sarah was laughing. Of course she was. She'd taught the dog this insane trick. Then she'd taught her to commit it on unsuspecting passersby.

Nova slammed into his chest and he caught her, grabbing her tight and letting her momentum spin them in a circle. He'd learned the hard way that ignoring her when she came flying at him was not the answer. She'd just slam into his chest anyway, which she apparently thought was just as much fun as being caught.

Jim caught his balance, the dog all hot, wiggling muscle in his arms. She was licking his ear. He let go of her. Nova dropped lightly to the ground and trotted around him, clacking her teeth.

"She likes you." Sarah jogged up, pulling a leash out of her pocket.

Jim kept an eye on Nova. He'd learned the hard way she was prone to nibbling on pants legs if she felt she was being ignored. The more she was ignored, the harder she nibbled.

"Yeah. I kinda like her, too. She reminds me of you." He glared at the dog as she started to grab the cloth of his fatigues. "Knock it off," he warned. "You decided if you're keeping her?"

It was a legit question. Dogs without handlers were usually re-assigned ASAP. After Jack was shipped out, Sarah had monitored other units to see if anyone needed a replacement dog. Two weeks later, he noticed she'd stopped looking.

"Yeah," Sarah said, clipping on the leash, which Nova grabbed and immediately began tugging. "As long as Raid's out of commission, I don't have a dog. She doesn't have a handler. I'll keep her for now."

 **XXX**

Raider's rehab was a slow progression of small steps, literally.

"Every day he doesn't use that leg, the muscle atrophies a little more," Sarah said. Her voice was filled with frustration.

She and Jim were walking on the beach, the shepherd limping between them. The bullet wound was healing cleanly, tissue knitting back together without a trace of infection, but the dog refused to put any weight on the leg. He seemed content to hop along in a three-legged gait, his right rear paw held carefully off the ground. They were walking barefoot on the soft, wet sand at the tide line. Sarah thought the smooth surface would be less demanding. It didn't seem to matter.

She brushed impatiently at the sweat on her temple. The day had been dragging her down from the start. It seemed everything had gone wrong. The heat, a letter from Casey with absolutely zero news about Greg - again – and the frustration with Raider's lack of progress had her in a rare bout of temper.

"The food I requisitioned still hasn't come in so I've got Cookie mixing up tinned beef and reconstituted eggs and a little oatmeal twice a day to feed our four dogs until it gets here. He's says he doesn't mind the extra duty and the dogs love it but they eat a lot and they're chewing through rations earmarked for the boys.

"Maybe I should have them go hunting for their meals, those crazy dogs forage like a wild pack anyway. Finley said Ash was eating some weird little shellfish he dug up out of the sand the other day, crunched them down shell and all. I guess that's a good source of calcium but he ended up with screaming diarrhea. Ash, not Finley. Carlson has been taking Nix to catch rats in the field kitchen since Raider's out of commission. That's fine with me but he's been letting him eat them, too, so God only knows what kind of parasites he's been exposed to. I can't get dog food - I'll never get worming powder.

"Raider chewed up a pair of my socks this morning. Poor guy, he's bored out of his mind with nothing to do. No idea how he got them – he's barely got three good legs under him and he still managed to grab them off the wash line and ripped them to shreds. God, Jim, it's like having a bunch of little kids running around here. I don't know what's worse, the dogs or the handlers.

"Did I mention Nova's in standing heat now? I don't know how in the hell an intact bitch ended up over here - they're supposed to be spayed. The other dogs are practically dysfunctional. I'd send them down to stay on your base if you had any kennels there. On top of it all, Taylor wants me to set up a team to travel to - "

Jim interrupted her rant.

"Know what you need?"

"What?" she snapped. Unlike Nova, who was flirting outrageously with the three male K9s on the base, Sarah was not in the mood for romance.

Without answering, he scooped her off her feet, carried her into the surf and gave her a toss. The shock of the water against her sweaty skin snapped her out of her mood.

"Son of a bitch, Gutterman!" She rose, sputtering and swearing. And laughing. "What comes around goes around!" She launched at him, caught him around the waist and shoved him backward. They went down with a splash. He recovered, hauled her upright and pulled her hard against him. She struggled, hooked a leg between his and toppled him over again. They were thrashing in the water, laughing, Jim's hands in places they shouldn't have been in broad daylight. He kissed her roughly and she let the day's grinding annoyances fade.

Then suddenly, Raider was there, limping into the surf, plunging into the water and swimming toward them.

Swimming. In a straight line. Sarah broke away from Jim and stared.

"Look at him! He's using four legs to swim! All four legs! If he wasn't, he'd be going in circles!" Sarah flung herself at Jim. "Why didn't I think of this! I love you! Thank you!" She took his mouth and he returned the kiss, even though he wasn't sure what he'd done.

After that, Sarah took Raider to the beach nearly every evening and swam with him to rebuild muscle and strengthen the injured leg. Jim joined them when he could and they took turns, calling the dog back and forth between them in the water. Sometimes TJ or Eddie came along, too, and they all swam until they were exhausted, then collapsed on the sand. Jim and TJ brought Sarah up to date on the latest news from Casey on Espritos. There continued to be no word about Greg. Eddie and Jim shared tales of growing up in Oklahoma and Texas. Sarah rather thought the two of them were more alike than probably should be allowed.

On the nights it was just her and Jim, they drove a little further from the base than was strictly necessary and stayed out a little bit later than exercising a dog would have required. When Eddie teased her about it, Sarah told him swimming by moonlight was highly therapeutic.

Gradually, Raider began putting weight on his hind leg again, tentatively at first, then with more definition and for longer periods of time.

Sarah massaged the leg twice a day, working through range-of-motion exercises that stretched muscles from hip socket to toes. At first Raider growled and showed his teeth at what he felt was a clear invasion of his personal space.

"Get over it, buddy," Jim said to him as he sat on the floor of Sarah's tent. Raider was sprawled on his side while Sarah cupped the dog's stifle and pressed upward, then rotated the hip joint and extended the leg. "You'll enjoy that if you know what's good for you."

"You oughta listen to him," Eddie told Raider. "I bet he knows what her hands feel like." The men chuckled and Sarah rolled her eyes. She'd liked Eddie from the start. He'd made her feel welcome when she first came to the 137, showing a genuine interest in the brand new K9 program and not expressing skepticism that a girl was in charge of it. Now, he'd taken a personal interest in Raider's progress and often stopped by her tent under the guise of checking on him. Sarah wasn't sure if he was coming to see Raider or coming to see Jim. The two men had formed what she considered a rather unholy alliance.

"There's too much testosterone on this base," Sarah muttered. "That's why I like Nova so much." She thought she and the Belgian shepherd had formed their own little island of estrogen in the middle of the infantrymen and fly boys.

At her request, Jim and Eddie built a 10-foot ladder with rungs at irregular intervals. Sarah laid it flat on the ground and led Raider slowly through it, letting him gauge the spacing. Then she straddled the ladder and carefully maneuvered him backward through the openings, praising effusively as he lifted his hind legs to negotiate the obstacles.

She taught a series of rear-end awareness drills that forced him to use his right leg for brief periods of time, and worked core strengthening exercises to keep him balanced while one side of his body compensated for the other. She taught tricks to keep his mind busy and soon the dog sat up and begged, rolled over and chased his tail from both directions on cue.

Eight weeks after Raider had been shot, Sarah handed Jim a worn ball while they walked on the beach.

"I throw like a girl," she said. "You've got a better arm. You do the honors."

Jim launched the ball and Raider flew down the beach, paws pounding the sand with each smooth, even stride.

"Looks like he's got all four locked in to me," Jim observed. Raider grabbed the ball without slowing, spun and raced back. Sarah knelt and embraced him, sand, slobbers and all.

"Think you got your dog back," Jim said.

"There's one more thing we have to do." Sarah rose. "I need to send him after a target and have him work under live fire. Sometimes when dogs get hurt, they don't want to work again, even after their pain is gone. If I he won't go when I send him, I can't take him into the field."

"Do you want me to decoy for you again?"

"No." Sarah's smile was grim. "I've got someone in mind."

 **XXX**

Arnie Thompson looked distinctly uncomfortable and Jim thought that pleased Sarah to no end. He was a tall man with a beefy build and short cropped blond hair. His normally ruddy complexion looked a little pale in the early evening light. Raider sat at the edge of the training field, eying him thoughtfully.

Jim looked up from where he was leaning against the jeep as Eddie joined him.

"You come for the show?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Shoulda sold tickets."

The two men watched in companionable silence while Sarah gave instructions to Arnie and David Finley, one of the other K9 handlers. Finley was carrying his rifle. Arnie reluctantly pulled on the heavily padded bite sleeve. He jogged out to the center of the clearing, Raider's eyes following him with eerie stillness.

Sarah unclipped the dog's leash and straightened. Her mouth was set in a determined line, color high in her cheeks. She was wrapped in that aura of confidence he'd first seen the night she beat him in a poker game in the Sheep Pen. Had that been a year ago already?

Eddie struck a match on his boot and cupped his hand around the flame as he lit a cigarette.

"You gonna marry that girl?"

Jim's head snapped around in surprise.

"Where I come from, a guy spends that much time in a girl's bed, he puts a ring on her finger," Eddie observed.

Jim didn't even try to deny it. He knew they'd been discrete but it was hard to keep secrets when it seemed like everyone lived in everyone else's hip pocket. The fact that Sarah didn't have a tentmate had proven too tempting more than once. Add to that the fact they'd nearly gotten caught a couple of times and it wasn't any surprise the men in both their units knew exactly what the score was.

"You're crazier than a pet coon," Jim replied, swallowing his surprise. "We're in the middle of a war. I can't ask her to marry me."

On the field, Sarah released Raider with a spoken command. The shepherd fired forward. Thompson seemed paralyzed. Raid hit his outstretched arm with enough impact the men could hear it from where they sat. Thompson stumbled and went down hard, the shepherd clinging gleefully.

Sarah called Raider back, her voice rich with pride. The dog released and flew to her side.

"Get up, Thompson," she yelled. "Give him a moving target this time!"

"That don't got nothing to do with it," Eddie continued. "She loves your sorry ass and we ain't gonna be at war forever. This time next year, we're gonna be going home and the South Pacific'll be another page in the history books. What are you gonna do then?"

What _was_ he going to do then? He and Sarah were in two different branches of the service. Either of their next postings could toss them to the four winds. It was sheer dumb luck they'd managed to be stationed near one another for this long. He hadn't spent any time thinking about what might come next, maybe on purpose.

"I got nothing to give her." It wasn't a hollow claim. It was the truth. He didn't plan to make a career of the Marine Corps once his enlistment was up but he didn't have anything to go back to, either. There was no family business with a place waiting for him in the States, no college degree to shop around to potential employers. Hell, he hadn't even graduated high school. No property. Christ, he didn't even own a car. When he left the Corps, he'd do it with the clothes on his back and nothing else. What kind of a prospect was that for a wife? He'd put away a tidy nest egg from his payroll but that wouldn't last forever and he had no idea what he'd do for an actual a living. One more thing he hadn't thought about.

Sarah bent at the waist and held Raider's collar. The dog was up on his hind legs, lunging, every gleaming tooth displayed in a snarl as he watched Thompson start to run. She released him and the dog flew even faster as prey drive kicked in. He hit the sleeve and Thompson went down again. The man really didn't have very good balance, Jim thought.

"I've seen the way the two of you look at each other. She don't care one way or another."

"Hard to live on love and nothing else."

"I reckon the two of you'd make a go of it," Eddie chuckled.

Jim turned to him. "What about you? You got a girl waiting at home?"

"Yep. Claire Hawkins. We been sweethearts since the tenth grade. When I get back, we'll get married in St. Paul's United Methodist Church and have our first baby nine months later." He laughed and ground out the cigarette under his boot. "Her pa runs a little air service outside of Tulsa, he wants me to come on as a mechanic when the war's over. It ain't much but it's a start. Figure that's all we need, we'll take it from there."

Jim watched as Sarah shoved her hair behind her ear and said something to Finley. Backlit by the evening sun, she seemed to glow rose and gold, the dog a dark shadow pressed against her leg. The thought of a long-term future with her was mind boggling.

Arnie dropped the sleeve and started to stagger off the field.

"You're not done, Thomson!" Sarah yelled. "Run it again. Finley's gonna lay down cover fire."

Thompson glared at her.

"Put the sleeve back on. Now." Her voice bit through the warm evening air.

"That girl scares me sometimes," Eddie chuckled.

Jim just grinned.

"She scares me all the time."

"You'd be a fool to let her get away."

He was right and Jim knew it. Women never used to be this complicated.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Winds of change**

 **Jan. 3, 1945**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry and VMF 149 HQ**

 _Dear Kate,_

 _It's been one year since your life changed forever. Please know I am thinking about you today and always. I treasure your letters telling about Joy. She must be changing by the minute. I am sure you are taking lots of photos of her._

 _Jim was on Espritos last week and got a chance to talk to Casey. I am sorry, there is no news. Again. Oh Kate, I know you haven't given up and neither have we. The boys keep asking questions and Casey has been "borrowing" any documents with possible intel that come through Gen. Moore's office. I'm pretty sure he doesn't have S-2 clearance but he says that never stopped him before so why start now._

 _I think Col. Lard is not likely to forget Jim is keeping tabs on him, since he buzzed Lard's office when he left. Jim says if Lard doesn't like having his coffee shaken up, he should get an office further away from the airstrip._

 _I have some happy news - Casey asked Dee to marry him and she said yes. They have been together practically since the beginning of the Black Sheep. Casey said they are going to wait until the war is over to get married although knowing Dee, I'm not sure she will let him wait that long. In the meantime, she accepted a promotion and a transfer back to Pearl. She went with Casey's blessings. He feels she will be safer there than here in the Solomons. The war is kind of falling down around our ears here. Everyone says it can't last much longer but Japan is not rolling over yet._

 _More happy news – I won the Army vs Marines poker tournament here on Rendova. I ended up playing Jim in the final round and think his ego took a good stomping when I put down a straight that beat his bluff. I don't know what made him think he could bluff against me. Honestly, the man should know better by now. He has suggested a number of ways I can soothe his injured pride. I will not go into any more detail or it might cause the censor to fall right out of his chair._ (In the margin, she'd sketched a pair of men's feet sticking up in the air to indicate a body that had toppled over.) _  
_

 _Raider is nearly 100% sound again. He limps a tiny bit after a hard workout but otherwise is as badass as ever. He is in love with Nova. She does not return his affection although she was quite a slutty little thing when she was in season. It looks like she will stay with me. None of the other units need a replacement dog and very few new handlers are being sent over here now. I think the K9 program has achieved what it was meant to do. I am not sure what that means for my future._ (Here she'd drawn two cartoon canine faces. The more masculine of the two had hearts circling around it.) _  
_

 _You and Joy are in my prayers every night. And Greg, too, wherever he is. I hope we will all be together again soon. Jim says to tell you hello. He has been telling me some great stories about when you were on La Cava with the Black Sheep - oh my God, Katie, did General Moore really know who you were the whole time you were there and Col. Lard did not?  
_

 _Love,_

 _Sarah_

 **March 1945**

 **White Oak Farm, Kentucky**

 _Dear Sarah,_

 _I have a new job! Joy and I have a new home! I started writing for The Blood Horse in February and we have moved to Kentucky. I'm living in the old gate house on a farm owned by William and Audrey Harris, near Cedar Creek._

 _William's mother, Coretha, lives here also, and let me tell you, she is a piece of work. She has been trying to find me a husband since the minute I set my suitcase down. Now she thinks she is going to marry me off to her grandson, Danny, who is just come back from the war. He served in the South Pacific, too, and she thinks that gives us plenty in common. It's a full-time job, just staying one step ahead of that woman._

 _On the bright side, Danny has no interest in marrying me because he is trying to find a nurse he met while he was on a hospital ship at Guadalcanal – it's Laura Halvorson. Can you believe that? Small war. I think Laura has gone back to the States and Dee is trying ti find her. Danny and I have agreed to fly cover for each other while we look for Laura and wait for news about Greg – at least it will keep Grandma Coretha off our backs. She is slobbering for a wedding and grandbabies._

 _But oh, Sarah, the horses here are divine. The Harris' buy horses off the track to train and resell as hunters. I am earning my room and board by helping with riding and training. It is heaven to be back on a horse again. I wish you were here to go riding with me._

 _Joy has been on a horse for the first time. She loved it – giggled and squealed the whole time. She rides with me every chance she gets. I know – she's only seven months old but I think Mama and Papa had us on horses before we could walk, too. She talks a blue streak now and Meatball seems to be the only one who understands her._

 _He is still a house dog but he spends a lot of time with me at the barn and I don't think he has ever been happier. He adores Joy. I think she will be the next generation of dog handlers._

 _Give my best to Jim. I pray for your continued safety and that the two of you stick with each other no matter what the war throws at you. Every night when I look at the stars, I know they are the same one you and Jim and Greg are all looking at, too._

 _Love you, sis, and counting the days until it is over._

 _Katie_

 _PS. Yes, Gen. Moore knew who I was, not for the whole time I was on La Cava but for most of it. And don't believe everything Jim tells you.  
_

 **XXX**

 **July 1945**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry HQ**

Jim burst into Sarah's tent in the middle of the afternoon without preamble. He was still in his flight suit from the day's mission, both his collar and his hair askew. The look on his face was absolute joy.

Ignoring Raider's familiar show of teeth, he pulled Sarah out of her desk chair and swung her into his arms. Raider laid his ears back as a shower of paperwork cascaded onto his head.

Jim planted a hard kiss on her mouth, leaving her breathless but not arguing. One of things she loved best about him was his ability to get straight to the point. Since it was 1400 hours, she wasn't sure what that point was but she didn't argue with the presentation.

"Jim! What the – " she gasped, trying to catch her balance. He spun her at arms' length, then pulled her back into his arms. She was laughing now, caught in the moment.

"They found him! He's alive! Greg's alive! I just talked to Casey."

Sarah's eyes went wide. Her fingers clenched the fabric of his flight suit. She could feel his heart pounding as wildly as hers.

"Where is he?"

"A POW camp near Tokyo, it's a place called Omori. Him and a bunch of other men. The Red Cross is working to get them out." Jim squeezed her tight.

"That's wonderful! Thank God, after all this time!" Sarah's eyes filled with tears even as her heart sang with happiness. She buried her face in Jim's chest, then tipped her head back. "Is he all right? Does Kate know? How soon will he be released?"

"I just wired your sister. It'll take a bit for the message to get there but she'll know soon. Casey's going to keep track of Greg and make sure he knows where to find her." Jim kissed her hard again, echoing her elation. "God, Sarah, Katie was right. You were both right. The Japanese picked him up on a sub the day he was shot down. They've had him the whole time."

 **XXX**

Later that night - _much_ later that night - Sarah curled against Jim on the beach, heat rising off their bare skin. Her mind was pleasantly blank as the last echoes of their loving resonated through her body. They were both quiet, not needing to fill the silence with words. Jim rolled up on an elbow and traced a finger along her collarbone.

"Japan is losing this war, Sair. They just won't admit it yet. Releasing Greg's name, admitting they were holding him and all those other guys – that was a good will gesture, hoping the Allies will cut them some slack. They're getting close to surrender."

Sarah didn't say anything. She'd read the papers, heard the news that traveled along the grapevine. The war had ended in Europe in May, two months ago. Even here in the South Pacific, she'd noticed the changes. There was less and less need for the K9 units. Raider and Nova spent more time swimming and chasing balls on the beach than they did going out on patrols. The Japanese infiltrators had dwindled, pulling back as the Allied forces dominated. One day they were all going to wake up and it would all be over.

Then what?

As much as she'd hated leaving the United States initially, the Army and the 137 had become her home. The dogs and the men were like her family. Maybe it was because she didn't have a home otherwise. Her family's farm in North Dakota had been gone for years, sold after her parents' deaths. She'd been a free spirit since then, American to the core but not tied to any place, no roots, free to move as the wind blew her.

All she had was the here and now. And Jim. They'd been lucky and she knew it. They'd had over a year together on Rendova. Her missions with the K9 unit had taken her around the theatre but she'd always come back to him. And he'd always come back to her, landing his bird in one piece - limping, smoking and once in a while, on fire - but always in one piece. As many times as the war pulled them apart, it had kept throwing them back together. Living like this seemed to be the only thing they knew how to do. What was going to happen when it ended?

She said the first thing that came to her mind.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, darlin'."

"What's going to happen when it ends?" She thought her voice sounded insignificant under the deep indigo of the sky. She left the question deliberately open ended – what would happen to her, to him, to them, to the world in general. He didn't answer for a long time.

"I don't know." But he wrapped his arms around her when he said it.

 **XXX**

 **August 17, 1945**

 **Rendova, 137 Infantry and VMF 149 HQ**

 _Dear Kate,_

 _Japan has surrendered! The war is over at last! It seems like I cannot remember a time that our lives did not revolve around this war. The peace treaty has not been signed yet but already we are feeling the impact._

 _By the time this letter finds you, I will no longer be on Rendova. Word has it the K9 units are being returned to the States. Nothing happens quickly where the Pentagon is involved so I have not been in a hurry to pack my trunk but do not think I will be here much longer._

 _There is rumor the Army is establishing a new K9 program, one that uses dogs specifically raised for military use, instead of taking donated dogs, and if I stay in the Army I will apply to be considered for it, although right now it is all talk and smoke and little else, and Katie - I am not sure I am meant to make a career out of the military, although I have no idea what else I would do._ (Sarah cringed at the horrible sentence structure but didn't try to change it. That seemed to be how her thoughts flowed lately - a pell-mell tumble what-ifs and maybes.) _I am guessing I'll be sent back to Cat Island from here. Raider and Nova will stay with me.  
_

 _Jim thinks he will remain in the theatre and expects to be re-assigned soon since there is no longer any need for combat squadrons. The Gryphons have been drinking the base dry in celebration. You would be proud of me (or possibly appalled) – it has taken a World War but I can finally hold my alcohol beyond one or two drinks. God knows I've gotten enough practice in recent weeks._

 _They still need fighter pilots to help suppress the pockets of Japanese resistance who have not heard – or accepted – that the Empire has surrendered and Jim thinks that is where he is headed next. They also need pilots to help move troops and equipment and supplies so he feels he will be here for a while yet._

 _I do not know what our futures hold – mine, Jim's, yours, Greg's. I pray every day that the two of you will soon be reunited. Casey told me he is tracking the US's progress in getting the men released from Omori. It is slow, like everything else in this war that is no longer a war, which makes no sense but that's how it is. I know Greg will come home to you, the two of you were meant to be together and I cannot wait for the joyful day when I can see both of you together again like you are meant to be. And Kate, you must tell me about the look on his face when he sees his daughter for the first time._

Sarah put the pencil down to look at the photo Kate had sent in her last letter. It showed her sister mounted on a huge gray horse, with Joy seated snugly in front of her. The little girl's expression was alight with happiness, dark curls framing a face that already had a sinfully adorable smile. Oh yeah. No doubt whose kid she was. On the back, in Kate's neat hand was written, _"Joy, Kate, Possum - June 1945."_

 _Please hug my darling niece for me and wish her the happiest of first birthdays. I hate that I have not seen either of you for more than a year. I will write the instant I am back in the States and will come to see you at the earliest opportunity. I think the Army owes me a seriously long leave and I plan to take it while I figure out what I am going to do next._

 _Love, your sister,_

 _Sarah_

 _PS. Jim assures me every word of every story he tells me is the gospel truth._

 **XXX**

 **Early September 1945**

 **Rendova 137 Infantry HQ**

It was 0900 and Sarah was up to her eyeballs in paperwork. There wasn't enough coffee in the world to get her through the mess of reports that littered her desk. Maybe she shouldn't have drunk quite so much the night before but it had seemed like the thing to do at the time. She glared at the mess on her desk. The damned war was over, why did the Army need to have reports?

There was nothing to report. She hadn't been doing anything. Well, she hadn't been doing anything that she could put in a report.

Since Japan's surrender, both the 137 and the 149 had been involved in what she could only describe as a non-stop party. She'd never drunk so much in her life. There'd been bonfires on the beach nearly every night and the Gryphon's Nest had practically been drained dry. Earlier that morning, she'd left Jim snoring in her bunk and staggered out to care for Raider and Nova, then stopped at the mess for a Thermos of coffee and two mugs.

After administering medicinal coffee, she'd slapped Jim on the butt and sent him staggering out of her tent, scowling at the sunshine. The 149 hadn't flown a mission since mid-August. The pilots were on stand down while they awaited new orders. Sarah thought it was an awkward, unsettling time. The recently signed peace treaty had not brought her much peace of mind.

She sat down to tackle the day's load of paperwork. It was hard to think about requisitions when she had no idea how much longer the K9 unit was going to be here. She poured more coffee into her mug and set the Thermos back on her desk.

It clinked against something hard. She fumbled in the pending paper avalanche and pulled out her shiny new captain's bars. Sarah turned them over in her fingers, watching the morning sun reflect off the metal. She'd been promoted three days ago. She suspected Major Taylor's hand in this, taking advantage of the peace treaty euphoria and general chaos. Jim's immediate reaction had left no doubt how he felt about it. He'd pulled her to him and kissed her soundly.

"I'm happy for you, Sair, you deserve it," he'd said and she knew he meant it. The pride in his voice had been genuine. But there'd been a hint of something in his eyes that she couldn't pin down. Uncertainty? Doubt? It had been gone in a heartbeat.

There was no shortage of uncertainty now, she thought. It was everywhere they looked. As long as she and Jim had been caught in the war's web, there'd been no room for it. It had been full speed ahead, living life to the fullest with few thoughts for a tomorrow that neither of them were guaranteed. But now the war was over and it seemed as if they were living atop a fault line, waiting for the first tremor to scatter them to the four winds.

She was still thinking about it when Major Taylor stepped into her tent. Raider smiled at him. He smiled back.

"Pack your bags, Cameron, you and that bundle of fangs are going back to the States." He tossed reassignment orders onto her desk, beaming. "The whole K9 unit is being pulled out. You'll go to Pearl first, then back to Cat Island. You leave tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir," Sarah managed to say, then sat in stunned silence, listening to her own heartbeat.

The earthquake had struck. She was going home.

Damnit. They were headed for another good-bye.

 **XXX**

They made love on the beach that night, in a quiet cove away from the evening's bonfire revelry. Sarah closed her eyes as she ran her hands over Jim's body. The feel of his muscle and bone against hers, the scent of his skin, the rhythm of his breathing, burned themselves into her memory.

She didn't want gentle. She wanted heat and power to fuse them together against the unanswered questions of the future. She was so tired of not knowing if she'd see him again. For the last year, she'd listened to the Gryphons lift off, planes roaring over the base, and said silent prayers for his safe return. Now, the war was over and nothing had really changed. She'd still be praying for his safety, no matter where she was.

They were intimately familiar with each other – the give and take of pleasure, promises delivered by hands and lips and tongues. She abandoned herself to the sensation of his mouth on her skin, his teeth light on her nipples, his fingers stroking her with practiced skill until she was slick and trembling.

She rolled him onto his back and straddled him, brushing against his shaft, teasing him until neither of them could take it any more. Sarah moaned as his hands circled her waist and he thrust up into her, her body welcoming his, possession and surrender at once. He drove her with a sensual roughness, imprinting on her flesh as well as her memory. Time rippled, stilled, until there was no tomorrow, just this moment with him as flames of mutual need burned higher.

Her body spasmed with the strength of the climax and she pulled him deep, held him as he erupted. She tipped her head back, calling his name into the South Pacific wind, the stars overhead sparkling with the promise of an unknown future.

 **XXX**

The K9 unit she had served with for almost two years walked out to the transport at 1100 hours the next morning - Sarah, with Raider and Nova, David Finley with Ash, Bill Carlson with Nix. Harrison had never been replaced. The dogs had been officially discharged and had the certificates to prove it. Once they got back to the States, the dogs would be returned to their former owners if they wanted them back. Sarah figured Raider's former owner wouldn't answer the phone if he knew who was calling. She remembered the combination of terror and relief in the man's eyes the day he handed the shepherd over to her.

And Nova? She wasn't sure where the little Belgian had come from in the first place. Both dogs sat nearby, panting patiently. Nova had decided she liked Raider enough that he could sit next to her without getting his nose bit. Most of the time.

"I'll see you when I see you," she said softly. "I love you." Her hands were on Jim's waist, her eyes trying to memorize every detail of his face, somehow afraid his image would dissolve like morning mist when she turned away. It was wrong to wish the war would have continued but it had been the common thread that wove them together. Now, the future seemed impossibly, desperately uncertain.

"I'll see you every time I close my eyes." His voice cut through her thoughts.

She could read the suggestion in that lazy smile as he let his gaze play up and down her figure, lingering several times. He'd done that the first time they met and he was doing it on purpose now, she knew. She lifted her chin and poked him in the chest.

"My eyes are up here, Gutterman."

He chuckled.

"I won't be here forever," he said. "I'll find you when I get home." His voice lowered. "I love you, Red." For a minute, he looked like he was going to say something else but didn't. She pressed her face against his chest. She believed him when he said he would find her but it didn't make leaving any easier. How could he find her when she barely knew where she was going? She reached up and touched his face. He kissed her and then they were calling her name and she was gathering up leashes and dogs and getting on the plane.

Raider jostled Nova while they were going up the stairs and she bit him on the nose, just hard enough to remind him who was in charge. Her tail was wagging when she did it.

 **XXX**

Jim watched as the plane faded from sight. The look in Sarah's eyes had reminded him startlingly of Kate the day she left La Cava after they lost Greg. Head high, back straight, eyes filled with that same determination in spite of uncertainty. He didn't know when he'd see her again but he'd find her. He wondered if she knew how much watching her leave had ripped him apart.

She'd barely been gone five minutes and he even missed the damn dogs. Raider had been enough to deal with but then she'd claimed Nova as hers, too. That had doubled his chances of waking up with cold nose poking him in the armpit and errant bits of fur stuck all over his clothes and, occasionally, in his Scotch. He didn't mind. He'd gotten pretty good at fishing dog hair out of his drinks in the last year.

He remembered the first night he'd met her, watched her walk down the steps of that C-47 on La Cava with Raider by her side. He'd known her about 30 seconds before he asked her if the dog was going to bite him. She'd told him it all depended on him. It had been yesterday. It had been two years ago. Raider hadn't bitten him, although not for lack of trying a couple of times.

Memories flashed through his mind, the color and motion and scent that was Sarah Cameron. The taste of her mouth. The warm curve of her thighs wrapping around him. Those green-gray eyes, pulling him under like an ocean current. The feeling of completion she brought to his life, like the final piece of a puzzle, clicking into place and making him feel like he had a reason to stay alive and on the right side of trouble for a change.

And he'd just let her go with nothing more than a promise to find her at some vague point in the future. What had he been thinking? Oh hell, it wasn't like he could have gotten down on one knee in the dirt of the airstrip and ask her to marry him, could he? He had nothing to offer her. Nothing. She deserved better than that.

He turned and headed for the Gryphon's Nest. Alcohol wouldn't fill the hollow ache inside him but maybe it would dull the edges.

The interior of the bar was quiet. Not many of the Gryphons were even conscious yet after the previous night's bash. He was surprised to see Eddie there, slouched in a chair. The sandy haired Oklahoman had his feet propped up on the table and was contemplating the ceiling like a man might study the Sistine Chapel. Several sheets of paper and an envelope were scattered in his lap.

Jim didn't think it was too early for a beer, given the circumstances. Seeing the look on Eddie's face, made it two. He set the bottle on the table and gestured at the letter.

"News from home?"

Eddie picked up the beer and took a long draw before answering.

"Been sitting here thinking about it for two hours," he finally said.

"Good way to get a flat ass."

Eddie chuckled, then sobered.

"Claire's pa had a heart attack. He's gonna be okay but the doc says he's gotta cut back at work. He and her ma run their air service by themselves. Between the flyin' and the fixin', he works 14 hour days. He needed another set of hands, that's why he wanted me to come on as a mechanic when I get out of the service. I done that sort of thing before Uncle Sam invited me to this party. Won't be long now, 'til I go home." Eddie lifted his bottle and clinked it against Jim's. "We're both short-timers and no offense to President Truman, but I'm not coming back for another dance."

"I'll drink to that," Jim said agreeably.

The two men sat in companionable silence.

"You gonna re-up when they cut you lose?" Eddie asked.

"Not a chance." Jim's voice rang with sincerity.

"You know anything about crop dusting?"

"No," Jim said honestly. "But I reckon if you do it right, nobody shoots at you."

"James," Eddie drawled, "I believe I have a business proposition for you."

 **Two months later**

 **October 23, 1945**

 **Cedar Creek, Kentucky**

True to her word, after eight weeks back in the States, Sarah collected on her long-overdue leave from the Army. Kate and Greg were getting married and she was going to be her sister's maid of honor. Wild horses couldn't have kept her away.

Leaving Raider – whose owner most definitely did not want him back – and Nova – whose ownership records had vanished – in the care of other handlers at Cat Island, she'd boarded a train in the Mississippi delta bound for the Kentucky bluegrass country.

They were waiting for her on the platform as the train pulled into the station at Cedar Creek. She spotted them immediately – her sister, slender in riding breeches, boots and a sweater, Greg, ruggedly handsome as ever, holding a dark-haired toddler. Sarah's vision blurred with tears and she hastily wiped her eyes as the train chugged to a halt. Then she was flying out of the compartment, down the steps and into Kate's waiting arms.

"Sair!" Kate hugged her hard. "We were afraid you might not be able to get here in time."

"And miss your wedding? Not a chance!"

There was more hugging and tears and everyone was talking at once. Kate didn't look a bit older than when Sarah had left her in Philly after Joy was born. Greg's hair was touched with gray at the temples now but his blue eyes sparkled and he was vibrant as ever as he pulled her into an embrace.

"I am so glad you're back," she said, kissing his cheek.

"That makes two of us, sweetheart," he said.

And Joy. The little girl studied Sarah with solemn scrutiny, reaching to touch the medals pinned on her jacket. When Sarah held out her arms, Joy giggled and reached back for her.

"Come here, darling, look how big you are!" The child managed to capture the essence of both parents, with blue gray eyes and a tumble of dark curls. Joy smiled and a dimple creased her right cheek. Sarah was absolutely smitten.

Greg handed her off and Sarah scooped her into her arms. "She's just like her mother, always looking for the next way to get into trouble and God forbid you tell her she can't do something." The pride in his voice was evident.

Kate rolled her eyes, Joy tried to pull off Sarah's hat and Greg went to retrieve her bags from the train.

Kate looked around.

"Jim couldn't come with you? Or is he coming later?" Her voice was quiet.

Sarah bit her lip and adjusted her grip on the toddler.

"I think he's still in the South Pacific." She saw the look of surprise on Kate's face. "Honestly, I'm not really sure where he is. It's been really hard to keep track of each other. I know he'd want to be here for the wedding but I'm not even sure he knows about it. I tried reaching him after you wrote, but I couldn't even get hold of Casey to track him down. I swear Katie, we've been blown around like milkweed fluff."

In the two months since she left Rendova, Jim had written to her at Cat Island but she'd been unable to write back because she didn't know where to send the letter. He'd cautioned her that he'd already been reassigned twice and had no idea how long he'd be at his current post or where he was going next. A letter could drift aimlessly through the military postal system for months before finding him in the post-war chaos.

He was alive and well and bored out of his mind piloting an endless string of troop transports, ferrying men and supplies around the region. That was all she knew.

" _Seems funny to be upstairs without anyone trying to kill me. I kinda miss TJ harping at me to get off his starboard wing. My enlistment is up in October and I don't plan to re-up, so they can't keep me over here forever._ _I've been a square peg in a round hole my whole life, Red. The only time I ever felt like I was where I belonged was with the Black Sheep and when I'm with you. I'm counting the days until Uncle Sam cuts me loose._

 _I love you, Sarah, and can't wait to see you again. I'm tired of us being apart and we have some things to talk about,"_ he'd written in his last letter.

Well. It was October. Where was he? And what did he want to talk about?


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: To have and to hold**

 **Oct. 24, 1945**

 **Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, Oceanside, Calif.**

The ink was barely dry on Jim's discharge papers and he wasn't sorry to put the USMC in his rearview mirror. The military had been his choice only as an alternative to being locked up for doing some wild shit in what he'd come to think of as his misspent youth. He wasn't sorry about that choice. It had been good for him and he realized it now.

He would miss the men, the camaraderie and the gut-wrenching adventure that had been his life as a fighter pilot since 1941. He wouldn't miss the regulations and saluting. The last two months had been a study in tedium. Being a ferry pilot was not his cup of tea. And God help him, his final assignment had been with a unit that insisted on playing "Reveille" every damned morning. That had gotten old in a hurry.

Now, the only things he possessed where the uniform on his back and the various items jammed into his duffel. An offer from a buddy waiting in Oklahoma. A little money in the bank. And a dream that a red-haired, green-eyed Army dog handler could make come true.

He stepped onto the street as a civilian for the first time in four years with one thought on his mind – find Sarah.

He hailed a taxi to the train station.

"How may I help you, sir?" the clerk asked from behind the ticket counter.

"I need to get to Cedar Creek, Kentucky, by Saturday," Jim said.

"Where the hell is that?" the clerk blurted. With the influx of servicemen and women returning home from abroad, he thought he'd heard of every podunk town there was. He hadn't heard of this one and sighing, pulled out his United States atlas.

"Damned if I know," Jim returned, thumbing bills off a roll. "Somewhere near Lexington. Just get me to Kentucky and I'll figure it out from there."

Casey had run into him, almost literally, while he was cooling his heels in a bar on Pearl, waiting for the brass to finalize the paperwork that would send him home. Casey was there on leave to visit Dee – whom he had married about five minutes after Japan signed the official surrender papers on the USS Missouri. Well, they _had_ agreed to wait until the war was finished. Over drinks, Casey told Jim that Greg was back in the States now and he and Kate were getting married.

The wedding was in four days, on Oct. 28. Casey and Dee planned to attend, although Dee couldn't leave her post at the hospital for two more days, so they would be arriving at the last minute. Casey invited Jim to travel with them. Jim had declined. He couldn't wait. He was tired of waiting. It was second in line behind being tired of saying good-bye.

He'd taken the first available flight back to the mainland, finished being processed out at Camp Pendleton and had been honorably discharged.

Honorably. Didn't that just beat all? He figured someone higher up the food chain had been willing to overlook a few things early in his career, although once Greg got hold of him, he'd straightened up a little and once Sarah got hold of him, he'd straightened up a lot.

Now all he had to do was get to Cedar Creek, which was apparently in the middle of nowhere. He knew Sarah would be there. There was no way she'd let Kate get married without her.

The clerk consulted the atlas, then thumbed through an assortment of schedules and timetables.

"I can get you on a line that goes to Albuquerque, then Amarillo to Austin up through Little Rock and on to Lexington by Friday afternoon. It leaves at 4 p.m., so you got a three-hour wait. That okay?"

"It'll have to be." Jim paid for the ticket and pocketed it. He should stop and see his family in Fort Worth but there wasn't time. He'd telephoned his mother. She knew he was safely back on U.S. soil and that was going to have to be good enough for now.

"Can I help you with anything else?" the clerk asked, jerking his thoughts back to the present.

"Yeah. There a decent jewelry store anywhere around here?"

The clerk beamed. This was not the first time he'd heard that question in recent weeks.

"Yes, sir, that'll be Stockert and Hoyt, on the corner of Sycamore and Twelfth. Tell them Ed sent you."

"Thank you, Ed, I'm mighty obliged." Jim turned and left the station to find another taxi.

 **XXX**

 **Oct. 27, 1945**

 **White Oak Farm**

 **Cedar Creek, Kentucky**

It was the day before the wedding and the residents of White Oak Farm were in a state of utter chaos. Don French's parents, Harold and Caroline, along with their 20-year-old daughter Helen, had arrived the day before. They were staying at the big house with the William and Audrey Harris. Harold had been instrumental in getting Kate the job that landed her at White Oak after she'd lived with the Frenches in Philadelphia.

Bobbie and Ellen (Morgan) Anderson were staying at the Cedar Star Inn, Cedar Creek's lone hotel, but were spending most of their time at White Oak, helping with wedding preparation. They'd been married six months earlier. Don French and TJ Wiley had shown up the day before yesterday and were also staying at the Cedar Star Inn. Bobby Boyle and Jerry Bragg had called and left a message, assuring Kate they'd be there by Saturday, although with those two, there was no telling where they'd end up and no one was holding their breath. Larry and Dee Casey sent word promising they would be here in time for the wedding, although they warned that they might arrive at the same time the bride was walking down the aisle. White Oak Farm was never going to be the same.

The bride-to-be found Sarah on the receiving end of instructions from Tilly Murray, the Harris' housekeeper, regarding polishing silver for the wedding dinner. Kate tossed a pair of riding breeches at her and said, "Change clothes, we're getting out of here."

"Where do you two think you're going?" Tilly demanded. She was brandishing a bottle of shoe polish and several pair of men's black dress shoes.

"Out!" Kate called over her shoulder as they fled toward the barn.

Fifteen minutes later, Sarah swung a leg over Possum, a sweet-tempered dapple gray heavy hunter. With Kate mounted on Tuxedo Junction, an off-the-track blood bay, the two girls put the frenzy of cleaning and food preparation behind them. Sarah was thankful for her sister's intervention. Polishing silver didn't rank high on Sarah's list of life priorities but Coretha Harris, the matriarch of the Harris clan, made it clear she would not be serving a wedding meal in her house with tarnished silver and had recruited all hands on deck. Sarah thought if Coretha wanted the silver polished that badly, she could do it herself.

Kate sighed with relief as they turned the horses down the lane that ran along the river. A gust of wind sent a shower of late season leaves cascading onto the water's surface, where they floated in a blaze of garnet and topaz.

"I wanted to elope," Kate said, "but Greg wouldn't have it. He said just for once we were going to do the traditional thing and he was going to marry me in a church in front of God and everybody. He even sent me to Lexington to buy a wedding dress. Told me not to come home without one. I think he was afraid I'd show up at the church in riding breeches otherwise."

Sarah privately thought Greg had a very good point.

"I am so happy for you," she said. "He's a wonderful man. The two of you were meant for each other."

"So what's going on with you and Jim?"

Sarah forced a wry smile. "I don't think we're even in the same hemisphere right now. Seems like it was easier for us to be together in the middle of the war."

"He'll find you, you know."

Sarah reined in Possum and tipped her face up to the late afternoon sun.

"That's what he said when I left Rendova. I'm so tired of saying good-bye, Kate. All I've done for the last two years is say good-bye to people I love."

"Then maybe you should stop."

Sarah made a face.

"Easy for you to say. The Army doesn't exactly ask if it's a convenient time to leave. They just tell you to go."

"Are you going to re-up?"

Sarah made another face.

"I don't know. I only signed on for two years and my enlistment is up next month. There's been noise about starting a real K9 breeding program, they want to build on what they learned from using dogs in the South Pacific and Europe. I could get in on the ground floor if I wanted to."

"Do you want to?"

Sarah looked out over the hills. The blaze of autumn color was starting to fade but the oaks glowed dull copper in the sunshine.

"I don't know. I was never looking for a career in the military – I just wanted to train dogs and look where it sent me. You and Greg, you've got each other, you're going forward, wherever the future takes you. Jim and I . . . I don't know where we're going. I can't see him sticking in the service. I can't see me sticking, either but I don't know what else I would love as much as working with the dogs."

Kate arched her brows.

"Have you two talked about this?"

"Talked? Kate, we haven't seen each other in months. I expect when we do see each other, we'll . . . talk." She remembered his last letter. _When I see you again, we have some things to talk about._

"Yeah." Kate grinned, drawing the word out into three syllables. "I know Jim, remember? I don't think there's going to be a lot of talking going on when you two see each other again."

"Smart ass," Sarah muttered and squeezing Possum with her knees, cued the horse into a canter, leaving Kate and Tuxedo behind in a swirl of leaves.

 **XXX**

Jim arrived at White Oak late in the afternoon on Oct. 27. He thanked the farmer who'd given him a ride from the train station, grabbed his gear out of the back of the truck and walked up the flagstone path to the front door of the main house.

Tilly let him in and looked him up and down. Before he had a chance to explain himself, she turned and hollered over her shoulder toward the back of the house, "Sir? I got another one of your boys out here!"

Then Meatball trotted around the corner and let out with a volley of barks that brought everyone scrambling. Greg, the assembled Black Sheep and Danny Harris poured in from the back porch where they'd been enjoying a bottle and staying out of the women's way. Greg pulled Jim into a wordless embrace and there was a great deal of back thumping and hand shaking all around.

"Thank McArthur," Jim said. "There for a while, I wasn't sure he was going to let go of me." He glanced around. "God, it's good to see you all again. Is Sarah here?"

"What?" Greg grinned. "You've been here five minutes and our company isn't good enough? Yeah, she's here. She and Kate went out riding a couple of hours ago. They should be back any time."

He slung an arm around Jim's shoulders.

"C'mon, Gutterman, we got some catching up to do."

The men retreated to the porch.

Tilly Murray watched them go, her dust cloth paused in mid-air. So, _that_ was Miss Sarah's beau. She'd recognized him immediately from Miss Kate's description – tall and dark, broad shoulders and a smile that could have a girl on her back without even trying. My, my, my, she thought. White Oak hadn't seen this many good-looking men in uniform since about forever. She wasn't sure her heart could take much more of it. She set down her dust cloth. They were a thirsty bunch, too. She'd just find another bottle of Old Charter and some more glasses and ice and take it out to the porch for them. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be 30 years younger.

 **XXX**

Jim watched as the horses came up through the orchard at a relaxed walk. Both girls rode with the grace of those who'd spent more time in a barn than a ballroom. As they grew closer, he could see they were having an animated conversation. Sarah had dropped the reins of the huge gray creature she was riding and was doing something with her arms that mimicked – he realized - catching an airborne dog. Then she mimicked falling over. On the porch, Jim shook his head. He remembered _that_ day all too well.

The late-day sunlight glinted off Sarah's hair, which was caught up in a neat French braid. That had to be Kate's doing, he thought. Never in the year and a half he'd known her, had Sarah ever done anything more complicated with her hair than stuff it under a hat. After two months back in the States, it had started to darken again, although the mahogany was still shot through with copper highlights.

The lane curved past the house on the way back to the barn. Sarah was still guiding the horse with her legs, her arms now imitating . . . a dog hitting a bite sleeve? Two dogs hitting a bit sleeve? She was shaking her head and laughing at the same time.

Jim set down his drink and walked to the edge of the porch, resting his hands on the railing. Behind him, the mens' voices faded into the background. Sarah's laughter carried on the breeze as the horses approached. She was close enough he could see her face clearly now. She was relaxed, her face unguarded. The hard-edged veneer of discipline and command he'd seen so often during the war had softened but she still had that slightly wild look that never failed to send a tingle down his spine.

Sarah glanced toward the porch, her gaze sweeping over the men assembled there, hand raised in a casual wave. She was still chatting to Kate. Then he saw her words trail off as her eyes found his and went wide. She dropped her hands to the reins and urged the big horse forward, her face alight.

Jim bolted down the porch steps and vaulted the fence. He caught her as she kicked her feet out of the stirrups and threw herself off the gray into his arms.

"Hey, Red."

"You're back!" Her voice was a fierce whisper.

She hugged him, words incomprehensible as she buried her face in his chest. He tipped her chin up, brushed his mouth over hers, lightly at first, then her lips parted under his in the welcome he'd dreamed about since that morning she left Rendova.

There were kisses and then there were _kisses_. Her tongue slid over his with a familiarity that would have been more appropriate behind closed doors than standing in the autumn sunshine with half the squadron watching. Not that he was arguing. Some small part of his mind had been afraid her return to the US would have changed her feelings for him, but the emotion radiating from her eliminated any doubt.

He couldn't get enough of her. She smelled like sunshine and saddle leather and horse. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her body pressed against his. They broke off, both needing air.

"You're here! You're actually here!" Her fingers traced traced his jaw, then slid into his hair. "I didn't know if you'd come, if you were still in . . ."

"I'm out of the Corps, darlin'. Uncle Sam is done with me."

"Welcome home." Her voice was soft. She pulled his head down and kissed him again while the men cheered behind them.

 **XXX**

"I told Michael to put your bag in Sarah's room," Greg said. "Unless you plan on bunking at the hotel in town with the rest of the guys."

"I'll stay here, if she'll have me," Jim said, quirking an eyebrow at Sarah. They, along with Kate, Greg and Joy were sitting in the front room of the gate house after supper, fire crackling in the hearth and glasses of bourbon all around. Meatball snoozed in the middle of rug, where he could monitor everyone, should they decide to move.

"I'll have you," Sarah said. She sipped, studied him where he sat with Joy on his lap. The little girl had made the rounds of all the men after the meal that evening, happily climbing from lap to lap, her dimpled smile proving irresistible. Her eyes were growing heavy now and she was snuggled sleepily against Jim as he sat in a wingback chair near the fire. If he was uncomfortable with the arrangement, it didn't show. Sarah smiled, in complete agreement with Joy's choice. There'd been a lot of nights in the last two months when she'd wanted to fall asleep with her head on his chest, feeling his arms wrapped around her.

There was something different about him now, she thought, something a little more serious, like a man had emerged from the hot-headed fly boy she'd first met. It looked good on him. She'd fallen in love with who he was then, rough edges and all. Maybe because of the rough edges. He'd been so impossibly wrong for her – arrogant and smooth talking and reckless, inviting himself into her life when a man was absolutely the last thing she was looking for. What had Kate said that afternoon so long ago – love finds you when you're not looking. Well, she hadn't been looking and it sure found her. Now what was she supposed to do with it?

Lizzie Murray entered the room, glanced around shyly and located Joy.

"You want me to take her, Miss Kate?"

"Unless Jim and Sarah want to keep her tonight," Kate said with a sly grin. "She can wake _them_ up at 2 a.m., wanting Meatball or a drink or a story or God knows what."

In answer, Jim lifted the sleepy child up to Lizzie.

"If I'm awake at 2 a.m., it's not going to involve Meatball," he said.

Sarah gave him a sideways look.

"You are a bit presumptuous, sir," she said in her best formal voice.

"You said you'd have me." He was laughing now. "I took that at face value."

"That's it. We're going to bed. You kids don't stay up too late." Greg stood. Kate wrapped her arm around his waist.

"Try to keep it down so you don't wake Joy," she said and they left the room. Sarah heard the stairs creak and Greg's warm laugh as they disappeared.

The fire had burned itself out, the logs crumbled into a red glow edged by white ash. Sarah set her glass down.

"C'mere, darlin." The undertone in Jim's voice sent a current of electricity through her. She crossed the room slowly and stood in front of him, holding out her hands. He took them and rose, fingers circling her waist.

"You know Kate had Tilly put me in the room furthest from her and Greg?" Sarah watched for his reaction.

"And why would she do that?" The glint in his eye said he knew perfectly well why.

"She knew you'd come for the wedding and she knew you'd stay here, just like she knew Greg was alive all that time. I swear some days she's psychic."

She took his hand and led him up the stairs to the room at the far end of the hall. She didn't turn on the electric light. The nearly full hunter's moon cast the room in silver. They were barely across the threshold when he pressed the door firmly shut and pinned her against it, his mouth on hers. The kiss was light, an invitation, not a demand. She slid her hands down his back, eyes closed as his scent washed over her.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"What did you miss most?" Her hands were already cradling his hips, pressing him close, feeling his body respond.

"The way you feel." His hands slid under her shirt. She shuddered with pleasure at his touch, warm, rough fingers on her skin.

They undressed each other slowly, rediscovering curves and muscle, hearing the soft intake of breath as touches grew more intimate. The familiarity of his body triggered an overwhelming need for reunion, for physical affirmation of things left unsaid.

"Come to bed with me," she whispered, and pulled him down onto the moonlit quilt.

Her body remembered his, his mouth, his hands, the hard need of him entering her. She met him with a fierce possessiveness, the glory of giving herself to him sparkling through her blood like wine.

As he held her on the hot, bright edge of release, she sank her nails into his back and matched his demand, feeling the power surge through him. Her body responded, exploding with agonizing intensity, and his mouth closed over hers as she called his name.

 **XXX**

Greg and Kate were married the next afternoon in the country church at Stone Cross, near White Oak Farm.

It was intended to be a small affair but what with the couple themselves, Sarah, Jim, random members of the Black Sheep and their new wives, plus the Harris family who Kate had been sharing her life with, and all the assorted Murrays who called White Oak home, the little chapel was bursting at the seams with laughter and joy that sunny autumn day.

Bobby Boyle and Jerry Bragg arrived, driving a rattle-trap '36 Plymouth that was smoking like a Corsair after a bad mission. Greg told them to park it far enough away from the church that if it caught fire when no one was looking, at least nothing else would burn up.

It was the third wedding Sarah had been a part of in the last seven months. She'd been on a brief layover on Espritos, headed back from New Caledonia, and stood up with Bobby and Ellen when they were married in February. Raider had curled up under the pew in the small chapel on the base and slept through the whole ceremony.

Her timing had landed her on Pearl, en route back to the States, when Larry Casey and Dee Ryan had tied the knot. Dee had asked her to stand up with them. Don had been there as well, and had been Larry's best man. They'd all gotten uproariously drunk afterward. Those had been no-frills ceremonies with the sound of marching boots and jeep tires outside the window as background to the optimistic music of a borrowed Navy pianist. Both times, Sarah had been in field kit – clean but feeling awkward holding a small bouquet of flowers while still wearing khaki and boots.

Now here she was, in a church decorated with autumn flowers from the Harris' gardens, dressed in a stylishly cut, soft blue wool suit, a white blouse and black pumps. Her hair had been styled and she was wearing makeup for the first time since she couldn't remember when. A green stone wrapped in a filigree of silver wire hung just below the hollow of her throat.

Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride, Sarah thought, watching as Dee straightened a bit of lace on Kate's dress. Dee and Larry had arrived barely an hour ago and Dee had taken all the last minute details in hand, shooing the men out of the church while the girls finished dressing. Through an open window, she could hear them laughing as they shared a bottle.

Sarah thought the simple ivory lace-over-satin gown suited her sister perfectly, emphasizing her slender curves and the soft rose glow of her complexion. The gown had been hanging in Kate's bedroom for a week. Since it was also Greg's bedroom, Dee had expressed concern.

"Isn't it bad luck if the groom sees the bride's gown before the wedding?" she mused.

Kate laughed.

"That's only if he sees me _in_ the gown before the wedding," she said.

"Do you know how many times he's seen her _out_ of her gown?" Sarah sputtered.

"Oh." Dee blushed. "Never mind."

Dee was glowing with her first pregnancy, a tiny bump just starting to show. Bobby and Ellen had arrived with their own obvious good news.

"The doctor says it's twins," Ellen said, resting a hand on the curve of her belly. "They're due in December."

Sarah studied the color in her sister's cheek with a critical eye. She thought Kate was glowing just a little more than the sparkling Indian summer afternoon dictated. Was it possible she and Greg were expecting again? That was fast work, she thought. They'd been together little more than a month. Maybe it was just the joy of the moment, she decided. Every bride looked wonderful on her wedding day.

"I hope it's not something in the water," Jim said quietly in her ear. Sarah jumped. He chuckled and putting an arm around her, led her away from where Dee was pinning up Kate's hair.

"I'm not drinking the water, just in case," Sarah said as they stepped outside. "Do you think she's . . .?"

"I'm trying not to think. But I've seen that look before, Sair, when she was on La Cava, after Greg was shot down, when she told me about Joy. She had that same glow." He shrugged, dismissing it, and let his eyes walk over her. "That color looks good on you." The admiration in his voice sent a warm thrill through her and she realized he'd rarely seen her in anything but khaki.

"Thank you. You clean up nice, too." She ran a hand down his tie. Jim and all the other Black Sheep were in full dress uniform for the occasion and the effect was staggering. She knew Tilly had been laying waste with laundry starch and shoe polish for the last three days and it had paid off. Earlier that morning, TJ had been wandering around without a shirt. When she questioned him, he told her Tilly ordered him to take it off so she could iron it. From the looks of it, she'd worked over a few of the others, too. Ties were snug and smooth, collars crisp and shoes polished to a reflective shine.

Jim wrapped an arm around her waist and they strolled through the sunshine. She thought about all the times she'd seen him in a flight suit, in fatigues, in skivvies, in nothing. She thought about the first time she'd met him, about thinking he wasn't the best looking guy she'd ever seen. She'd changed her mind. That good old boy smile, those dark eyes, the way he looked at her . . . the way his eyes held hers last night, the rough power of his body against her. . . She struggled to get a grip. Hearts really could skip a beat, she thought.

Jim held up a bottle.

"Drink?" he offered.

"Jim Gutterman, are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?" She was scrambling to get her thoughts back in order.

"Darlin', there's no taking advantage of you. I've learned that by now. Casey brought this. He's got a whole case in the back of their car. It's General Moore's wedding gift. He sent his regrets."

Sarah took the bottle and tipped it up. The smoky taste of the Scotch lingering in her throat sent her straight back in time to the South Pacific. She closed her eyes. For just a moment, the bright, cool autumn afternoon vanished, replaced by heat, humidity and the roar of the squadron lifting off. Splashing in the surf with Jim and the dogs. Hot, stolen moments together, the ever-present threat that one of them might not come back from a mission or a patrol. She swallowed, blinked, aware Jim was studying her.

"Got you, too?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Just for a minute, I was back there . . ."

"I know. I can damn near hear Micklin yelling at us for wrecking _his_ planes. _College boys!_ " he mimicked. He took the bottle back and took a swallow. "Ever think you'd see this day?"

"What? Katie and Greg getting married? Or all of us being back in the States? Or – "

Jim turned to face her.

"Sarah, I –" he began. The look on his face was so intense it left her breathless. The breeze lifted heat from her cheeks and sent a shower of dry leaves cascading around them.

High heels clattered on the church steps behind them.

"Sarah Elizabeth!" Dee called out. "Get in here and get your flowers, it's almost time!"

"Better go, darlin'. " Jim picked a leaf off her shoulder. "Casey says it's best never to argue with a Navy nurse and he would know."

 **XXX**

The bells pealed, their joyous music cascading out of the church steeple to roll over the surrounding hills.

After much discussion, it had been decided that as Greg's executive officers, Jim and Casey would both walk Kate down the aisle. Jim escorted Sarah, as maid of honor, to the front of the church, followed by Casey and Dee, who was serving as matron of honor. With both girls ensconced near the altar, the men returned to meet Kate. She took each of their arms and with the pianist playing Pachelbel's "Canon in D," walked slowly to the altar. She kissed each of them lightly on the cheek, then took Greg's arm.

In the front pew, Joy crawled away from Lizzie to sit between TJ and Helen French. As Sarah watched, the little girl wiggled restlessly, then climbed into TJ's lap and settled herself with obvious satisfaction. TJ looked surprised but put his hands around her little waist to kept her from sliding off. Sarah tried not to laugh.

Even Meatball was there, scrubbed to a state of unnatural whiteness and sitting quietly on the floor next to Don, who had a firm grip on his leash. Sarah noticed a small flower arrangement had been affixed to his collar. Leave it to Dee, she mused.

Everything was in place, Sarah thought, as the minister launched into an opening prayer. It was finally happening. Her sister was finally getting to marry the man she loved. She sighed with happiness. It was almost too romantic. In keeping with tradition, she and Dee had made sure Kate had gone into the day with something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

Kate teased _something old_ should be her favorite pair of leather boots, the ones she'd worn for the six months she was stationed on La Cava.

"She's not serious, is she?" Dee had hissed.

"God only knows," Sarah muttered, rummaging through the small flannel jewelry pouch she'd brought with her. "Here." She held out a small brooch encrusted with pearls and crystals. "It was our Grandma Cameron's. She would have loved Greg." Claire Cameron had been known for having a wild streak that lasted well into her 90s and Sarah and Kate privately joked that Kate inherited her drinking ability directly from her.

They agreed that _something new_ was the set of lingerie Kate had bought to go under her gown. They were a soft shell pink that Sarah said reminded her of a South Pacific sunset.

"Don't ask to borrow them," Kate had said pointedly. Sarah had blushed and said, "I'm a redhead, I don't look good in pink." Kate grinned and Sarah – reading her sister's mind - deliberately added, "Besides, Jim prefers white lace."

When they got to _something borrowed_ , they'd all had a good laugh. Kate had made a specialty out of borrowing clothes for years but was at a loss when it came to her wedding day. Dee loaned her a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

"In all the years I've known you, you have never had a handkerchief when you needed one," Dee said.

Something blue was easier. The lacy garter was woven through with ribbon the shade of Greg's eyes. Kate had slid it over her thigh, then smoothed down the tea-length skirt of her gown just as the bells began to ring, calling for the ceremony to start.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" the minister asked, bringing Sarah back to the present.

"We do!" Jim, Casey, TJ, Don, Bobby Anderson, Bobby Boyle and Jerry called out in a boisterous chorus. Meatball barked. After all, she'd been _his_ girl for nearly two years.

"Dearly beloved," the minister began, "we are gathered here today, in the presence of God and these witnesses, to join this man and this woman in holy marriage . . ."

Sarah looked across the altar. Jim met her eye and smiled. She remembered the first thing he'd said to her that day she'd shown up unannounced on La Cava, Raider at her side.

 _Your dog isn't gonna bite me, is he?_

Her mind sifted through the memories. Returning to La Cava for her first R and R. The shooting match. Walking on the beach with him.

 _You said I couldn't get you drunk. You didn't say I couldn't kiss you._

And he had. Repeatedly.

"Therefore, if any man can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

Sarah thought anyone stupid enough to get between her sister and Greg at this point deserved what they got.

"We celebrate with them, the love they have discovered in each other and are here to witness their decision to commit themselves to one another. Love is a quality of spirit but marriage is a life's work . . . " The minister's voice faded as Jim held her eyes. He was grinning, sending her mind sailing back through time again.

Swimming with him in the lagoon, tumbling down onto the wet sand, half in, half out of the water, his mouth on hers.

 _One of these days, darlin', you're gonna get tired of telling me no._

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Jim arched his eyebrows. His grin got wider. She pulled her gaze away, to where Kate and Greg were starting their vows. The love they shared was nearly tangible. Had they ever imagined this day would come, Sarah wondered. Life was full of so many wonderful surprises.

"I take you, Katherine Christine Cameron, to be my wife . . ." Greg's voice was clear and low.

Waking up to find Jim sitting by her bed in the hospital after she'd been shot.

 _Honestly darlin', I'm not sure you should ever be left unattended._

". . . to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse . . . " Kate's answered quietly. "As long as we both shall live."

His hand stroking hair off her cheek, his voice unusually gentle, in their bed on Espritos.

 _Is that why you were biting your lip the whole time?_

She felt herself flush hot and choked back a strangled cough. Why had her mind chosen _that_ particular memory? Dee shot her a quizzical look. Sarah gazed demurely down at the bouquet she was holding and willed the color to fade from her cheeks. She chanced a sideways glance at Jim. He had given up any pretense of decorum and was grinning broadly.

"By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride." The minister was beaming. If the Empire of Japan hadn't put them asunder, Sarah rather doubted anything else stood a chance.

Greg pulled Kate into his arms and kissed her with a thoroughness that had the Black Sheep cheering and the minister looking slightly alarmed. If he knew half the things the bridal couple and their attendants had done, the poor man would have stroke, Sarah thought. The pianist began playing "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring," and the newly married couple swept down the aisle. Jim offered Sarah his arm and they followed.

 **XXX**

The Harris' pulled out all the stops for the wedding dinner and the party lasted for hours. They pushed the furniture back and rolled up the rugs in the main house. Light and music spilled out into the autumn evening as the Black Sheep danced with everyone from Kate and Sarah to old Coretha Harris, who had a tendency to squeeze backsides when she thought no one was watching.

One at a time, the boys scooped a giggling Joy into their arms and whirled her around the impromptu dance floor until Lizzie took the little girl, sleepy and un-protesting, off to bed. TJ and Helen were enchanted with each other. Don rolled his eyes and pretended not to notice.

There were toasts to Greg and Kate, to Bobbie and Ellen and Casey and Dee who were recently married, to Danny Harris and Laura Halvorson who were soon to marry, to the Black Sheep and to Jim and Sarah, just because it seemed like the thing to do.

Kate sat on a chair and hiked up her skirt, then Greg slid the garter off her leg amidst much whistling and cat calling. He flipped it over his shoulder and TJ grabbed it in mid-air before it sailed into the punch bowl. Kate tossed her bouquet and the girls did a little strategic maneuvering to make sure Helen caught it. Around 3 in the morning, someone made a final toast to Meatball and everyone stumbled off to bed.

Ellen and Dee poured Bobby and Casey into their cars, along with several of the other Black Sheep and headed back to the hotel. TJ and Don linked arms with Greg, Kate, Jim and Sarah and they staggered, en masse, back to the gate house. After a number of lewd suggestions regarding sleeping arrangements, TJ and Don crashed downstairs in the parlor, while the couples found their rooms.

Sarah fell asleep within minutes of tumbling into Jim's arms, music still spinning through her mind.

 **XXX**

Greg and Kate left late the next morning. They were headed to Niagara Falls for a brief honeymoon, then back to Washington, D.C., to meet with Brigadier General Moore about Greg's next posting. It looked like he wasn't ready to part company with the Marine Corps quite yet.

Joy stayed behind with the Murrays. The little girl was used to her mother's nomadic way of life and had been raised in such a circle of loving caregivers, she understood the people she loved sometimes left but they always came back.

After watching their car pull onto the main road at the end of the lane, Sarah put down her coffee mug. Turning to Jim, she said, "Let's go riding. I'm tired of listening to that racket." Don and TJ's snores could be heard through the closed parlor door, where they still sleeping off the previous night's excess.

"Darlin', I haven't been on a horse in four years." His voice managed to convey doubt and interest at the same time.

"They still work the same," she said. "I bet Michael has some boots you can borrow."

When further protests failed to discourage her, Jim gave up and went to find suitable trousers. Sarah thought he'd given in rather easily and wondered if he found having time on his hands as odd as she did. After the war years, time to oneself, to do as one pleased, without anyone telling you to do something else, was a tremendously guilty pleasure. She'd miss that when she returned to Cat Island, she thought.

After helping them tack up Possum and Tuxedo, Michael handed Possum's reins to Jim. Jim scratched the big gray horse comfortably on the neck but eyed the hunt seat saddle with distrust.

"I don't suppose ya'll got a real saddle around here," he said.

"You'll do fine. You've got a good seat." She winked as Michael gave her leg up onto Tuxedo. "Kate says Joy could ride Possum by herself, so I expect you'll manage."

"A nice ass is not the same thing as a good seat," he said, gingerly settling himself into the saddle.

They took the lane that edged along the paddocks and wound between the fields. Jim quit complaining about the saddle after Sarah pointed out if he could land an 8,000-pound Corsair on the rolling deck of an aircraft carrier he could probably stick on a 1,000-pound horse that wasn't going to leave the ground.

They rode aimlessly, with no particular destination in mind, easy with each other's company. The sun was bright and the autumn air sparkled like cider. Jim proved to be a more than competent rider and when Sarah cued Tuxedo for more speed, he and Possum matched them stride for stride as they thundered along the river.

They slowed as the track skirted the edges of fall-tilled fields, then rode through bare trees up into the low hills that fringed White Oak Farm on the north.

Sarah reined to a halt in a clearing on the ridge that overlooked the small valley below. The houses, barns, paddocks and schooling arena of White Oak sprawled in a tidy geometric design. The surrounding fields were a patchwork quilt in shades of brown, stitched together with the dark lines of fencerows. In spite of the midday sun, she felt a chill. Winter was coming. She didn't know where she'd be spending it.

Restless, she slid off Tuxedo and heard Jim do the same behind her, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thump. He groaned.

"God, Sarah, I'm not going to be able to get out of bed tomorrow morning."

She looked over her shoulder, laughing at his expression.

"That'll be an awful problem, now won't it?"

She inhaled deeply. The scent of freshly turned soil and decaying leaves hung on the air. Jim's hands were warm on her shoulders and she leaned back into his embrace.

"Sair, I've got a job waiting for me. Eddie's father-in-law wants me to come on as a pilot with McGivern Air, little place called Sand Spring, near Tulsa. Eddie's already there. They need me as quick as I can get there, they've still got a lot of late fall air seeding to do."

She turned to him, biting her lip.

"So you'll be leaving soon?"

"By the end of the week, at the latest."

She pulled away. _Damnit to hell._ Good-byes again. She took a deep breath, forced her shoulders back as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"Sarah."

Something in his voice made her turn around. Her eyes went wide.

Jim was down on one knee. He reached out and took both of her hands. Tuxedo's reins slipped from her numb fingers and the big red horse stood patiently, ears flicked forward with interest.

"I'm tired of saying good-bye to you." Jim's voice was rough. "I like waking up with you. I can deal with you beating me in poker. I don't mind that you can outshoot me. It scares me a little but so do some other things you do. I'm getting used to picking dog hair off everything I own when I'm around you. I don't know if you plan to stay in the Army but if you do, that's okay with me. We'll figure it out."

That good old boy's smile was back, the one that had been trouble since the first night she met him. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Her heart was doing something completely erratic in her chest. Jim slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small jeweler's box. As he opened it, a ray of sunshine struck the round central diamond flanked by two smaller stones set in an Art Deco band. They sparkled like captured fire between his fingers.

"Sarah Cameron, will you marry me?"

Her heart was pounding against her ribs like a hammer. She was going to pass out if she didn't get more oxygen. The last two years flashed through her mind, a whirlwind of sensation and emotion. How many times had they kissed each other good-bye? If they had a song, it would be the sound of Corsairs and transport planes warming up in preparation to leave. The thought of spending the future together was an overwhelming dream, filled with unspoken promises.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice choked. "Yes!"

Jim slid the ring onto her unresisting finger where it blazed in the sunlight. He stood up.

"I knew one of these days you'd get tired of telling me no," he said, grinning.

Behind her, Tuxedo butted her gently in the back, shoving her into Jim's waiting arms.

 **XXX**

The printed notice was so small, Colonel Thomas Lard almost missed it. In fact, he was in the process of throwing out that issue of Stars and Stripes when two familiar names leaped off the page at him from what passed as the paper's social column. Sitting in his quiet office on the base at Pearl Harbor – nowhere near an airstrip, thank God - sipping a mug of coffee and enjoying the current air of post war civility, he was trying to decide if he should go to a late luncheon or play golf.

But there they were, two names guaranteed to jar him out of the comfortable complacency of the morning: Cameron and Gutterman. He felt the ghost of his ulcer twinge. The only name missing in that unholy triumvirate was Boyington and Lard knew he'd already married the older Cameron girl. That had been a match made in . . . well . . . he didn't know where. He shook his head and read on.

 _Cameron, Gutterman wed_

 _U.S. Army Captain Sarah Cameron and USMC Captain James W. Gutterman were married Nov. 28, 1945, in the First United Methodist Church at Sand Springs, Okla._

 _The bride was instrumental in the success of the first K9 scout units deployed in the Solomon Islands in the second half of World War II. She was honorably discharged from the Army and has been retained as a civilian consultant with the newly founded K9 defense program based in Fort Sill, Okla._

 _The groom flew with VMF 214, the highly decorated Black Sheep Squadron, as well as VMF 149, the Fighting Gryphons, where he is credited with leading that squadron to numerous, critical air victories in the later days of the war. He is currently employed as a pilot with McGivern-Gutterman Air Services in Sand Springs._

By God, he'd married her. That renegade Black Sheep had married K.C. Cameron's little sister. Both of those girls had been a law unto themselves. That probably explained how had they ended up with such regulation-defying pirates like Boyington and Gutterman.

Lard sipped his coffee and shook his head. There were some things he would just never understand.

 **EPILOGUE**

 **Six months later**

 **Sand Springs, Oklahoma**

The puppies were seven weeks old. There were nine of them. Sarah told Nova she'd outdone herself for a first litter. They chased anything that moved and they bit like little alligators. Sarah loved each and every one of them. She'd held them the first minutes after they came into the world, recording their weights and kissing their noses before returning them to their watchful mother.

Sarah had been running around the yard, letting the puppies chase her and bite the soft rag she was dragging. Now, she sat with her back against the old cottonwood tree as they tumbled around her, snarling in mock battle, thrashing the rag and making occasional forays after the black and white tomcat who was perched on a porch railing.

Most of them would be leaving in a week or two, after she'd done the final temperament testing and structural evaluations. She'd take them to Fort Sill, where they'd be paired with handlers who would start laying the foundation for the Army's new military working dog program. The offspring of two proven – and decorated -working war dogs, the Army had been delighted to negotiate a contract with her to supply puppies from this and future litters, as well as her training skills and knowledge, to the fledgling program.

She was already researching bloodlines of American and European dogs who'd proven themselves during the war. If Eddie could spare him for a day, she and Jim planned to drive up to Stillwater soon to look at a Belgian malinois who'd served in France and Germany. His owner might be willing to provide stud services for a puppy in return, the next time she bred Nova.

Sarah looked at her watch. Jim would be home soon and she really ought to get supper started, but the soft heat of the late spring day made it pleasant to just sit here with the puppies and let her mind drift. She let her hand rest across her belly, a smile curving her lips.

She really needed to tell him but she hadn't figured out how to do it yet. They'd talked about starting a family but put it off amidst the upheaval of moving to Oklahoma and Eddie and Jim's partnership as they took over the air service from Eddie's father. She'd been traveling to consult at Fort Sill and they'd bought a small acreage just outside of Sand Springs.

Then there'd been the unexpected breeding between Raider and Nova. While Sarah would have preferred sticking to purebred bloodlines, she'd be the first to say both of the dogs brought a lot of desirable qualities to the table and Alsatian/Belgian crosses were not unheard of in the working dog community.

The dogs had taken advantage of human error at a critical time. Jim had unwittingly let Raider into the fenced exercise yard without realizing Sarah had already turned Nova out while she'd gone to the barn to feed their two saddle horses and the chickens. By the time Jim had found her and said, "Darlin', we got a problem," it was too late. Sixty-three days later, Nova delivered what Sarah had started calling the Black Sheep litter – nine reckless, bold, brawling puppies who took trouble to new heights.

There'd been a lot of new life this year. Kate had delivered Gregory James eight months after their wedding, confirming both Sarah and Jim's suspicions of that day. Bobby and Ellen's twins – girls – had come in December, and Casey and Dee's baby boy was born just a month ago. It might not have been something in the water but the post-war optimism for a bright future was swelling maternity wards from coast to coast.

It had been two months now and she was sure. She knew exactly when it had happened, two days after the puppies were born. She remembered making love while a late-season storm hurled sleet against the windows, remembered covering Jim's hand as he reached for the drawer in the bedside table.

"No," she'd whispered, "not this time."

He hadn't argued, just smiled and said, "Whatever you want, darlin'."

She'd been mildly surprised two weeks later when she missed her first period. She hadn't expected it to happen quite that fast but had been elated when she missed the second month, confirming what she suspected. She was sure Jim would be as happy as she was, but she just wasn't sure how to tell him. It was going to have to be soon. She was already noticing subtle changes in her body.

One of the puppies found a stick and enticed the others to chase him. This ended up in a brawl, during which the stick was captured by the female puppy Sarah had absently started calling Reveille. While the rest of the litter was snarling and wrestling, Rev captured the prize and took it away to chew. She looked like Nova and acted like Raider and Sarah was hard pushed to stay one step ahead of her in terms of puppy training.

From the front of the house, she heard Raider woof as a pickup turned into the lane. The slam of a vehicle door was followed by a volley of barks. Sarah closed her eyes and could see the big shepherd in her mind's eye – every tooth in his mouth showing, tail lashing, leaping ecstatically. Raider loved welcoming Jim home and made a show of it every day.

Jim stepped through the gate into the back yard and was immediately mobbed. Raider, wisely, stayed on the other side of the fence. His collective offspring were a little overwhelming, even to him.

"Dear God, Sarah, they're like a feral pack!" Jim laughed as Rev dropped her stick and immediately attached her teeth to his pants leg. He pried her loose and scooped her up. Two others immediately attached themselves in her wake, growling fiercely.

"Consider their parents. Help me up," she said, pushing puppies off her lap with one hand and raising the other. He pulled her easily to her feet. Reveille had started tugging on the collar of his work shirt. Sarah took a deep breath. No time like the present.

She reached out and gripped his free hand, placing his rough palm against her still-flat belly.

"There's something you need to know."

His face broke into a slow smile, the same one that had captured her unsuspecting heart two years and countless thousands of miles ago. He kissed her, a slow, hot promise which was exactly how her condition had started in the first place, she thought, her heart pounding.

"Darlin', I wondered when you were going to tell me."

 **THE END**

Thank you for sticking with me to the end of this tale. I never intended for it to be this long. When I started, I thought it would be fun to write a quick romance between Jim and Sarah and that would be that. Yeah. Ninety-thousand-odd words later, it's done.

I've had a tremendous amount of fun playing with these characters, in this universe, and am glad you were along for the ride with me. I don't claim to be an expert on the USMC, WWII, firearms or anything military – but that didn't stop me and thank you for overlooking or gently correcting the worst of my errors.

I'm publishing this on Memorial Day weekend 2016. Please take a moment to remember the veterans – human and canine – who have given their lives to protect our country and our freedoms.


End file.
